


12 years of Christmas

by greyskiesblack



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Anime Spoilers, Blood and Injury, Broken Bones, Cats, Childhood, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Cute, Cute Kids, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Growing Up, Light Angst, Mostly Canon Compliant, Movie Spoilers, Nightmares, Pre-Game(s), Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-09-11 22:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9037436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyskiesblack/pseuds/greyskiesblack
Summary: Every year, the Crown throws a fancy Christmas party that Noctis is forced to attend.





	1. the first Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was short enough that i didn't think i'd need chapters... and then the second year ran away with me. so chapters it is, but i'm sorry this one is so short~

The first Christmas that Noctis remembers – _really_ remembers – is when he’s eight years old. Before that, he has vague memories of hazy scenes in the grand ballroom, but it’s _this_ Christmas that marks itself in his mind.

Maybe it’s because they're not at home, not even in Insomnia. They're in Tenebrae, and Princess Lunafreya - Luna - is standing beside his wheelchair, giving a soft and humorous commentary on the attending guests.

She ducks her head to speak into Noctis' ear, and her breath tickles his skin. "That's Lady Aleatoria. Mother says if you want to win at poker, you should always play with her." She giggles slightly and straightens up, lifting a hand to her elaborately braided hairstyle. Her fingertips barely brush against the blonde strands before she quickly drops her hand back to her side.

"Do you know how to play poker?" Noctis asks, feeling a little too warm under the blanket. He doesn't want to move and risk setting off the pain from his scar, so he tries his best to ignore the warmth.

"No," Luna shakes her head and glances down at him with sparkling eyes, "but maybe I ought to find out." She grins, and it's infectious. Noctis smiles back, but it feels like it gets frozen halfway, and he looks down as he plucks at the blanket.

Luna puts a hand on his shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. "Look, your father's on his way over."

Noctis looks up to see his father walking towards them. Luna's mother, Queen Sylva, is beside him, and they're both smiling.

Noctis feels his stomach twisting. He's seen that kind of smile before, and he doesn't trust it.

"Hello, son." King Regis stops in front of Noctis and nods. "Princess Lunafreya."

"Your majesty," Luna curtseys slightly, keeping her hand on the handle of Noctis' chair. "Mother."

"Your majesty," Noctis nods towards the Queen.

Sylva gives him a faint smile. "You're looking much better, Prince Noctis. I hope the festivities are not tiring you out too much?" Her voice is warm.

"No, your majesty." Noctis feels like he wants to squirm, but he's trapped by their gazes and his chair and his legs and the scar, and for a second he can feel the darkness around him, pushing him down, trying to suffocate him. He swallows and finds the ghost of a smile. "It's a lovely party."

The Queen and his father both smile down at him. "I'm glad you're enjoying it. Luna, a word?" She turns to Luna and holds out an arm.

"Of course." Luna pats Noctis' shoulder before following her mother back into the crowd on the dancefloor. The dancers are swirling and glittering, like dew on a cobweb that catches the morning sun and sparkles. Noctis can make Ravus out, tall and graceful as he dances with someone.

Noctis' father comes and stands beside the chair, taking up Luna's spot. " _Are_ you enjoying yourself?" His voice is soft, and Noctis has to strain to hear it over the music.

"I guess so,” Noctis hedges slowly. "Luna's been telling me about everyone." He waves a hand towards the dance floor, feels the tug of muscles in his shoulder and wishes he'd kept his hand in his lap.

"I see," The King blows out a gentle sigh. "And you enjoy Luna's company?" He glances down towards Noctis.

He stares up at his father, trying to understand just what his dad is getting at. He _is_ being Noctis' dad right now, isn't he? "She's nice," Noctis says slowly, trying not to frown. "I like her dogs," he adds, and this time his smile isn't as forced.

"That’s good," His father nods to himself before turning his attention back to the room.

Noctis watches his father. For a moment, he’s certain he's is about to speak, to say something else, but Regis just turns his gaze back to Noctis and smiles faintly. “Are you sure you’re not in too much pain?”

“I’m sure.” He wishes people would stop asking him that, stop treating him like he’s about to break. He feels like a porcelain figure, something to be looked at and never touched. He can see Luna through the crowd of people, smiling at something her mother has said.

King Regis nods. "It's a pity you can't be out there dancing. But there's always next year," he murmurs as he looks back out towards the crowd.

“Yeah.” Noctis feels his face warming. Even if he could _walk_ , he wouldn't be able to dance. He's not good at it. He glances back up towards Luna, walking towards them with a nervous smile. Maybe he should try to pay more attention when the tutor instructs him next. Luna looks as graceful as her brother when she comes up to them and curtseys again.

"Your majesty." She sneaks a glance to Noctis. “My mother was just informing me that the cakes are about to come out of the oven.” She meets Noctis’ eyes again and her lips twitch upwards. “May I escort Noctis to the kitchen?”

“Of course,” King Regis smiles as he steps out of the way. “It’s awfully kind of you to take such care of my son.” His voice is warm when he talks to Luna.

It is not the voice he used when he was talking to Noctis. It hadn't been his dad after all, but his father, the King. Noctis slumps slightly in his chair, and the motion sends agony sparking up his spine, down his legs, everywhere and nowhere all at once. He thinks he slides forwards, onto the cold marble floor. He thinks someone lifts him up with strong hands. But he can't be sure, because the only thing he can feel is agony, as though the daemon's sword is still embedded in his flesh, still in the middle of severing his spine. He can taste the blood and dirt in his mouth, feel the ash and smoke in his eyes, the weight of the dead woman slumped over him. And then, mercifully, he can't feel anything at all.

 

When he wakes up, someone is holding his hand. For a brief, blurry moment, he thinks it’s his father. But the hand is too small, too soft. Luna. He exhales softly and squeezes his fingers.

“Oh, Noct,” Luna’s voice is tight as she squeezes his hand back. “You made us, everyone, so worried.”

He opens his eyes slowly. “Sorry.” His voice is rough and quiet.

Luna gives him a tearful smile. “It’s okay.” Her hair is starting to fall out of its hairstyle, braids and pieces of blonde hair brushing the tops of her shoulders. “I saved you some cakes, but you’re probably not hungry.” She looks away, and Noctis follows her gaze to the tray on the table beside the bed.

“I’m sorry I ruined the party.” Noctis closes his eyes. He can feel the cold prickle of fresh healing magic itching all along his scar.

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Luna squeezes his hand again. “It’s still Christmas, you know.”

Noctis opens his eyes and pushes himself up against the pillows. “It is?” The thick curtains are drawn – for all he knows, it’s noon.

Luna nods and looks down at her feet. Noctis can hear the sound of a tail hitting the ground. Umbra or Pryna, Noctis thinks, but he can’t see over the bed to find out. “I got you a present,” Luna says as she looks up at Noctis.

“A present?” Noctis echoes as Luna unlaces their fingers and reaches below her.

For a moment, Luna clutches the red book to her chest as though she’s afraid to pass it over. But then she smiles and extends her hands towards Noctis.

“A book?” He runs his fingers carefully down the leather cover. It’s blank.

“Better.” Luna leans over and opens it to the first page. A sprig of blue flowers has been pressed into the page, held down with a golden seal. “Do you remember?”

“Sylleblossoms, right?” Noctis smiles as he looks up. “We made crowns out of them.”

“That’s right.” Luna smiles back at him. “I thought…” She looks down, and Noctis can make out Umbra’s dark head as the dog pushes against the side of the bed. Luna scratches behind his ears as she continues, “we can use it to talk to each other.” She meets Noctis’ eyes again and smiles. “After you leave. Umbra will be able to find you.”

Noctis presses his fingers into the book as he closes it, warmth radiating out from his chest. “Yeah.” He nods. “I’d like that.”

Luna’s smile grows even wider. “What about a cake?” She glances towards them.

Noctis grins. “I’d like one of those, too,” he admits.

Luna puts the tray on the edge of the wide bed, and they share the sweet cakes and the cold milk with each other (and the dogs), talking about everything and nothing until there’s nothing left but crumbs and yawns.

Noctis can’t think of any better way to spend Christmas. After Luna wishes him goodnight and slips from the room, Umbra curls up on the foot of the bed.

That night, Noctis’ nightmare isn’t quite as fierce. And in the morning, even his scar hurts just a little less.

It’s the best Christmas he can remember having, and he wishes the night had gone on forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i _meant_ to have these all written _before_ christmas, but...  
>  hopefully i'll put a new one up each day until i'm done ^.^


	2. the second Christmas

Noctis is _bored_ , but every time he admits as much to himself, he feels guilty. He’s _lucky_ to even feel bored, he tells himself as he loiters at the edge of the room, but the words come in his father’s voice instead of his own.

For a second he can feel the fire warming his skin, but it fades with a shake of the head. He’s getting better at it. Probably because he’s had so much practice, and _that_ thought makes him scowl, just in time to be caught by his new advisor, Ignis.

He’s nine years old, and he has an _advisor_. His scowl deepens as Ignis crosses between the guests, making a beeline for him. There’s nowhere to hide, so Noctis turns slightly and leans his arm against the wall. Maybe he can use the scar as an excuse…

“Your father’s been asking about you,” the older boy says, and it still takes Noctis a moment to understand the words through the accent. He ought to be _used_ to it by now – it’s been half a year.

Noctis can see his father, surrounded by an intimidating crowd of people, all smiling and laughing. He and Ignis are the youngest ones there, and it makes him miss Luna. And that makes his chest hurt, and he can see Ignis talking but he can’t make out the sounds, can’t hear anything except the screams-

Noctis closes his eyes and counts to ten. “Sorry, what?” he asks without opening his eyes again.

“I _said_ , your father’s been asking about you,” Ignis repeats, sounding a little huffy. “I know you probably don’t find it _fun_ to talk to these people, but-“

“Do you know what _is_ fun?” Noctis interrupts, opening his eyes.

Ignis pushes his glasses up his nose and looks annoyed. Noctis seems to have that effect on him a lot. “What?”

“Sledding,” Noctis says as he pushes himself carefully off the wall. “You do know what a sled is, right?”

Ignis glares down at him. “Yes.” He grinds the word out slowly. “I’m not an idiot.”

Noctis considers asking Ignis if he’s _sure_ about that, but decides it’s better not to. “Come on, then.” He takes a few steps and looks back.

Ignis is giving him an incredulous expression. Noctis shrugs and continues walking.

“What are you _doing_?” the boy mutters, hurrying into step beside him.

“Sledding,” Noctis repeats, leading them towards the closest door.

Ignis makes a spluttering sound. “Your father-“

“Won’t even notice I’m gone,” Noctis finishes for him. “But if you want to go _tell_ him…”

Ignis glances back into the ballroom, and for a second Noctis thinks his bluff hasn’t worked, and the stuffy kid is going to go straight to his father. “I’m supposed to _protect_ you,” Ignis mutters, looking back at Noctis.

“Gladiolus is meant to protect me.” Noctis shrugs slightly, looking around the room, as though talking about the tall youth will make him appear. But thankfully, Gladiolus doesn't materialize.

The guards at the door eye Noctis suspiciously, and even Ignis doesn't seem to make them relax. "I forgot something in my room that I wanted to show Ignis."

The guards look at each other, and back to the two boys. "Your father would prefer if you stayed in the ballroom, Prince," the woman on the left says.

"But we won't be long." Noctis smiles up at her. "Promise. Right, Ignis?"

"R-Right. I'll, um, keep an eye on him." It sounds ridiculous when Ignis is barely an inch taller than Noctis, in need of having an eye on _him_ as well.

But it seems to work. The guards shrug at each other. "If you're not back in half an hour, we'll tell your father," the man on the right says.

Noctis just smiles. "Forty-five minutes?"

"Forty-five minutes," the woman agrees, speaking before the man can object. "Try not to worry your father too much," she adds in a soft voice as the boys duck through the doorway.

Noctis can pretend he didn't hear it. He leads the way, Ignis trotting beside him.

"Where are we _going_?" he finally asks, as Noctis turns towards the gardens.

"The gardens." Noctis rolls his eyes. He knows another place, a _better_ place to go sledding, but he's not sure if he trusts this sandy-haired kid. He looks like he's eleven going on twenty. He sneaks a side-long glance towards Ignis, remembering his father's conversation about what had happened to Ignis' family. Maybe next time.

"Is it even safe?" Ignis asks as they walk down the deserted hallway, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. "With..." he trails off, waving a hand vaguely towards Noctis' back.

"I guess I'll find out." It's been more than a year, but people are still treating him like glass. It makes him want to prove them _wrong_. Even Gladiolus won't train with him properly anymore. He keeps telling Noctis not to push himself, like swinging a sword around for half an hour is _exhausting_. Next time, he tells himself, he's going to tell Gladiolus about how hard it was to learn to _walk_ again. After that, sword-work is almost _easy_. Next time.

Ignis fiddles with his glasses, taking them off and cleaning them with a handkerchief. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" he finally asks as he puts his glasses back on, peering at Noctis through them.

Noctis ignores him and steps down into the garden. The air is crisp and cold, and he can see his breath when he huffs out a sigh. He should have gotten a coat, but he just wanted to get _away_ from the party. Ignis mutters something as he follows behind Noctis. Their footsteps crunch in the thin layer of snow as they walk along the paths.

There's only one sled, hiding behind tools in the gardener's shed, out of sight from the main walk through the gardens. Noctis found the shed entirely by accident when he was following one of the palace cats. And the sled had been gathering dust under a pile of books. Unused for years, and then too _dangerous_ to use.

"You'll have to help me." Noctis pushes the wooden shafts of the garden tools out of the way. "Unless you're going to back out." He glances over his shoulder.

"No," Ignis shakes his head, "I'll help."

It's a bit of a struggle to get the sled outside, and Noctis is pretty sure he's gotten a couple of splinters from his efforts. But once it's on the path it's easy to drag it behind them, the legs scraping slightly against the smooth paved stones.

"But there's no hills," Ignis says as he walks beside Noctis, holding the end of the rope and dragging the sled behind him.

"That's what _you_ think." Noctis grins.

Ignis gives him a suspicious look as they keep walking. Noctis is counting the tree trunks.

"Here." Noctis stops between tree twenty-four and twenty-five. In summer, they'd be blooming with pink and white flowers, smelling like cherries and sunshine. But it's winter, and the branches are bare, like skeletal fingers reaching towards him.

They have to turn the sled on its side to get it past the trees, into the carefully overgrown bushes. Noctis feels the sharp tugs on his clothes as the branches catch them, but he squeezes through, pulling the sled after him.

"You're going to be a mess," Ignis complains behind him, shoving the sled in front of him.

"Probably." Past the bushes there's a little clearing, which leads to a sharp dip, less of a hill and more of a cliff. There's a pond beyond it, along the other side of the garden, icy but not iced over. "See?" He flips the sled onto its legs and grins, feeling just a little bit triumphant.

"Well." Ignis adjusts his glasses again. They're fogging up. "I suppose it doesn't _look_ too dangerous."

Noctis grins. It's not a _big_ hill or anything, maybe only thirty feet. But it's enough - just enough - for a sled. He sets it near the edge, sits down on the cold wood. "Are you coming?" He turns towards Ignis, who is looking down the hill with a worried expression.

"Oh, alright," Ignis huffs out a puff of white air. "Why not?"

Noctis grins for a second before he realizes something, and then he scowls. "You have to sit in front," he says as he scrambles backwards. "You can't hold onto me."

"Oh, right." Ignis looks a little embarrassed. "But I've never done this before," he admits as he settles awkwardly at the front of the sled.

"Never?" Noctis echoes disbelievingly. "Well... just hold the rope, and push off with your feet," he says, shifting forward slightly. "And then put your legs there," he points around Ignis' arm, "and I'll hold onto you so I don't fall off."

"Right," Ignis says again, but this time he sounds determined. "It can't be that hard."

Noctis snickers slightly as he puts his arms around Ignis' waist. "Go on, Ignis," he says, a thrill of excitement running through his chest.

He can feel Ignis' deep breath before the boy kicks along the ground, and for a second Noctis' stomach stays on the top of the hill, outside his body. Then it catches up as they speed down the hill, the sled sending bits of snow and dirt up around them. Noctis laughs and tightens his grip, but it's only a second or two later that the sled is coasting to a stop at the bottom of the snowy hill.

"See, it wasn't so bad, right?" Noctis untangles himself and stands up, his face feeling flushed from the cold air.

"It..." Ignis stands up and dusts himself off. His hair is sticking up and messy. "It was fun," he says, and his green eyes seem to sparkle behind his glasses.

"Do you want to go again?" Noctis grins as he tugs on the rope.

"Yes." Ignis grins back at Noctis. He almost looks eleven, and it makes Noctis feel like there are bubbles in his chest.

 

They go down the hill a dozen more times, and it doesn’t get boring. Ignis actually lets out a _whoop_ at one point, which startles Noctis so much he starts to laugh, and then he can’t _stop_ , as if his laughter has been bottled up for a year, longer, and now it’s going to come out all at once.

Ignis hovers around Noctis as he lies on his back on the sled, clutching at his sides. “I’m fine!” Noctis chokes out, but Ignis looks even more worried, which makes Noctis laugh harder, and he doesn’t even know _why_ , and even though it hurts to laugh so hard it feels _good_ too, and eventually Ignis gives up and sits by Noctis’ head and smiles.

Finally he seems to laugh himself out, and his sides hurt almost as much as his back. He wipes at his eyes as he sits up, sore and cold all over.

“We should get back,” Ignis says slowly, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

“Yeah.” Noctis sighs, and all the traces of happiness seem to leave his body in the sigh that puffs out in front of him. “Dad’s going to kill me.”

Ignis gives Noctis a puzzled look. “Don’t you mean _us_?” he asks, running his fingers through his hair and trying to smooth it out.

Noctis shakes his head slightly as he stands up. They lug the sled behind them, back up the groove they've worn in the snow and mud. It has to have been an hour since he left, and he’s worried about finding guards before they can make it to the shed. But there’s no worried voices calling his name, and the boys hurry back to the shed.

“You’ve got dirt all over you,” Ignis says as they shove the tools back into place. “Stand still.”

Noctis stands still, but there’s dirt on Ignis’ jacket, snow on his pants. Noctis tries not to squirm as Ignis dusts him off.

“Turn around.” Ignis instructs, and Noctis flinches. Ignis puts his hands on Noctis’ shoulders and gently pushes him.

Noctis lets him, squeezing his hands into fists. “Just don’t-“

“I won’t,” Ignis interrupts as he brushes off Noctis’ shoulders and his arms. “I told you already, I’m not _stupid_.”

Noctis scoffs, but Ignis doesn’t touch his back as he finishes dusting the prince off.

“Your turn,” Noctis says as he turns around. Ignis’ face flashes with an expression too fast for Noctis to read, but he stands still as Noctis hurriedly brushes off the dirt and snow. Most of it. Sort of. There's a twig in Ignis' hair that Noctis has to pull out, and it makes Ignis flinch.

They press their hands in the snow outside to wipe the dirt from them, and it’s the best they can do. Noctis has lost a button or three, and Ignis definitely looks rather _rumpled_. Maybe no one will notice, Noctis considers as they hurry back along the garden paths.

A guard catches them at the entrance. “You’re in trouble. It’s been over an _hour_ , Prince.” She gives him a stern look, but Noctis is almost certain she's trying not to smile.

“I got lost.” Noctis grins at her.

She scoffs and walks behind them, ushering them up the hallway. “You’d better think of something better for your father,” she tells them in a soft voice.

Ignis is tugging at his jacket cuff, glancing between Noctis and the hallway. “Am I going…” he trails off, staring at Noctis.

“No. Don’t worry.” He smiles, but his stomach is churning. At least his father can’t get mad in front of all those people, right?

The ballroom looks the same way it did before he left, overflowing with glittering people. Noctis lets out a sigh of relief as the guard touches his shoulder gently.

“Over there,” she says, turning Noctis slightly. “Good luck.”

“Right.” Noctis swallows hard and leads the way. He feels like everyone is staring at him, but when he glances towards the crowd, no one seems to have even noticed him.

Except his father, who is already walking along the wall towards him. Away from the crowd. They meet halfway, and Noctis still hasn’t thought of what he should say.

“Noctis.” His father’s voice is tight. “You weren’t as dirty earlier.” He rakes his gaze over Noctis, and Noctis tries not to hunch his shoulders.

“I just needed… some air.” Noctis pushes his shoulders back and tries to stand up straight. “I made Ignis come with me,” he adds, watching his father’s eyes flick over to the boy beside him.

“Made?” The King echoes.

“Yeah. He wanted to get you, but I told him I’d never speak to him again.” Noctis glances towards Ignis for a moment, and the boy is fiddling with his glasses. _Again_. “That… I’d try to get him fired,” Noctis adds, glancing down at the ground.

“Is that so?” His father’s voice is even tighter. “That’s very irresponsible of you, Noctis. You know that-“ Regis cuts himself off. “I expected better behaviour from you,” he says softly, and Noctis glances up to make sure his father is still talking to _him_.

“Sorry,” Noctis mumbles, and he hears Ignis doing the same beside him. Ignis bows, though, and Noctis doesn’t have to.

“Both of you need to go and get cleaned up. A guard will escort you. And a guard will escort you for the _month_ that you’re grounded, Noctis.” The King's voice is hard.

Noctis wants to argue, but he swallows the words before he can make it worse. “It’s not Ignis’ fault,” he glances up and meets his father’s stare. “Please don’t fire him.”

“I’m not going to,” Regis says, and his voice is softer than it was before. “If you hurry back, perhaps there will still be some cake left,” he adds, and his lips shift in what might be a smile. But maybe it’s a frown. The short beard makes it hard to tell.

Noctis nods, bows his head. “Sorry,” he says. Ignis echoes him again, and his father just walks off, back into the party. His footsteps sound heavy in Noctis’ ears.

“Come on.” Noctis tugs at Ignis’ sleeve. “Do you have another suit?”

“I… I think so.” Ignis falls into step beside him.

“You can borrow one of mine if you don’t.” Noctis says as they move back to the hallway.

“Why did…” Ignis trails off as they pass by the guards. The woman on the left detaches herself from the wall and follows behind them.

“It’s what princes do, right?” Noctis smiles at the other boy. “Come on. I want to see if we can really make it before the cake’s all gone.”

Ignis smiles back as they hurry through the hallways. Noctis still wishes he had spent Christmas with Luna instead, but _maybe_ Ignis isn’t so bad.

Besides, they manage to change fast enough to get back in time for cake, and that _almost_ makes up for the mound of homework Noctis’ tutors pile on him while he’s grounded.

The fact that Ignis helps with Noctis’ homework makes up for a lot, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've had a copy of FFXV waiting for me to play it for _twenty-four hours_ , but i wanted this done first~


	3. the third Christmas

No matter what Noctis does, he can’t avoid Gladiolus sticking to him like glue. He even hides in the bathroom for ten minutes, counting them out to alleviate his boredom, certain that Gladiolus will have wandered off.

But when he opens the door and looks down the hallway, Gladiolus is leaning against the wall and smirking at him. “Nice try."

Noctis sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. For the last year, Gladiolus has been shadowing him for a few hours each day after school. Which has given him more than enough time to get used to Noctis’ tricks. Not to mention that Gladiolus is _still_ mad about what happened with Iris. It’s been a month already, but he won’t let it go. Noctis isn’t even grounded anymore.

“Come on.” Gladiolus claps a hand onto Noctis’ shoulder and drags him down the hallway.

There’s no point in protesting, so Noctis just scrambles to keep up. It isn’t fair that the three-year difference makes Gladiolus’ legs so _long_. If it wasn’t for the slightly-too-small uniform, Gladiolus could almost pass as an _adult_ , which is even _less_ fair. If he was an _adult_ , Noctis wouldn’t have to attend the dumb party.

When they get back into the ballroom, Gladiolus lowers his hand and follows one step behind and one to the left of Noctis. Noctis heads for the closest tapestry along the wall, looking for Ignis and hoping he doesn’t find his father.

He spots Ignis in a crowd of diplomats, short and looking out of place. Except Ignis is smiling, because of _course_ Ignis is the kind of person to like _diplomats_. Noctis scowls. If he goes over to get Ignis he’ll be trapped in boring conversations about boring topics, and he’ll have to pretend he cares.

“This sucks,” he mutters, wishing he had a rock so he could kick it. He leans his shoulders against the wall and sighs.

“Yep.” Gladiolus agrees beside him, standing up stiff and straight.

Noctis gives Gladiolus a side-long look. “Are you _sure_ you don’t want to sneak off?”

“It’s my _job_ to stop you from doing just that.” Gladiolus is eyeing the tray in the hands of one of the passing waiters.

Noctis considers. "Not even if we sneak off to the kitchens?"

Gladiolus glares down at him, crossing his arms over his chest. "Not even for that. There's food here." He nods towards the buffet table, set against one of the walls and hidden behind a crowd of people.

"But you can't get to it," Noctis points out. "As soon as you turn your back, I'll vanish."

Gladiolus gives him an annoyed look. "Why can't you try to enjoy yourself? Ignis is doing fine."

"Ignis is a nerd," Noctis mutters, glancing towards the crowd of diplomats. "I think he's avoiding me."

"You did get him in trouble last year," Gladiolus mutters. “And I don’t want you doing the same when it’s _my_ first party.” He’d had to stay home last year, Noctis remembers, because Iris had been sick.

Noctis huffs. "I don't know why I even have to be here." He pushes some of his hair out of his eyes, but it flops right back down again.

"You'll make a _great_ king." Gladiolus rolls his eyes. "Instead of whining, why don't you try socializing?"

Noctis makes a face as he glances towards the crowd Ignis is in. He doesn't want to be in this too-warm room with all of these strangers. "What about a snowball fight?" He watches Gladiolus’ expression as he asks.

"A snowball fight?" Gladiolus shakes his head. "No way."

"If you beat me, I'll come back and socialize all night." Noctis stands up straight and tries to look serious.

Gladiolus looks down at him with a considering expression. "Has it even snowed enough?"

"Yeah." Noctis looks away. If he admits he spent all afternoon looking out his window and watching the snow falling instead of doing homework, Gladiolus will tell Ignis, and Ignis will tell his father, and Noctis will get in _trouble_. And he likes going to school, even if he doesn’t like talking to any of the other kids.

"I suppose we could disappear for twenty minutes," Gladiolus says slowly, glancing around the room. "You swear that when I beat you, you'll behave?"

"Who says you'll beat me?" Noctis scoffs. Just because Gladiolus is always knocking him onto the ground when they fight... At least he’s not treating him like something breakable any longer.

Gladiolus smirks again. "And what reward are you dreaming about getting, anyway?"

Noctis shrugs again. He hadn't thought of one. He'd only wanted to get Gladiolus thinking about a bet. "Can you bring Iris back to the palace some time?”

"She _does_ keep whining about you," Gladiolus mutters under his breath. "Well, if it's what you want."

Noctis _wants_ to go back to his room, to finish reading the comic book he'd stashed between the pages of one of the history books he's meant to be reading. But that doesn't seem like it's possible, so a snowball fight is the next best thing. "Sure." He shrugs.

Gladiolus glances around the room again, looking uncertain. "I'm getting Ignis." He starts walking off before Noctis can protest.

Which means that he's stuck watching as Gladiolus walks into the crowd, stiff and polite, bowing and leaning to whisper in Ignis' ear. Noctis doesn't realize until they both turn and start walking towards him that he'd missed his moment of escape because he'd been too busy wondering _why_ Gladiolus wanted Ignis in the first place.

"Damnit," he mutters under his breath as they approach. "What's Ignis got to do with anything?" he asks when they're close enough to hear his low voice.

"A referee." Gladiolus grins at him. "So that you can't cheat."

"Why do you think I'd cheat?" Noctis bristles.

"In Noctis' defence, I've never seen him cheat," Ignis says as he pushes his glasses up his nose. The new ones don't seem to fit his face properly, and they keep sliding down Ignis' nose every five minutes. Not that Noctis has been counting.

"Maybe he's good at fooling _you_ ," Gladiolus teases.

Ignis huffs, and Noctis grins. Since Gladiolus has been following Noctis around to get them both used to it, he's been spending a lot of time with Ignis too. Sometimes, when it’s just them in Noctis’ room or the library, Ignis will suggest a card game, and eventually Gladiolus will join in as well. And Ignis has started fighting with them in the training room. He’s awkward, even worse than Noctis, which makes Noctis feel a little better about always losing so spectacularly to Gladiolus.

“Come on.” Noctis inches towards the door, and the other two follow behind him.

It’s the same guard as last year, and Noctis feels bad for not knowing her name. He glances at Ignis for a moment. _He_ probably knows it. “Back again?” The guard teases.

“I forgot something.” Noctis grins at her.

She shakes her head, looking over all three of them. “You can have twenty minutes before I tell the King where you’ve gone.”

“Thirty?” Noctis smiles wider.

The guard shakes her head. “We’re only supposed to let you out for bathroom breaks and you know it, Prince,” she reminds him. “Try not to get dirty this time.”

Noctis grins as they slip past her. They hurry down the hallway, Gladiolus in the lead. Ignis is fiddling with his watch.

“This is probably not a wise idea, Noctis,” Ignis mutters as they approach the garden.

“It’ll be fine.” Noctis shrugs. “It’s only a ten minute snowball fight.”

Gladiolus has beaten them outside and is standing in the falling snow, grinning at them. “Slow,” he teases.

“Not all of us are freakishly tall,” Noctis grumbles as he jumps down the steps. “We should have thought of rules before we got out here.”

“Whoever lands the most snowballs wins,” Ignis says, standing in the middle of the steps. “You better hurry.”

“Give us a countdown,” Gladiolus says as he moves further down the path.

Noctis hurries to a deeper looking pile of snow as Ignis calls the numbers out, “Three, two, one!”

Noctis crouches down and makes a snowball as fast as he can. Too slow – Gladiolus has thrown one at him already, and Noctis tries to duck and ends up catching it in the shoulder. He flings his with all his might, catching Gladiolus’ knees.

For a couple of minutes, Noctis is content to throw snow at Gladiolus. But he can’t help himself from sneaking a glance at Ignis as he makes a new snowball, and when he looks back towards Gladiolus, the boy is grinning.

They throw their fresh snowballs in unison, striking Ignis’ chest. He yelps and looks down, almost losing his glasses from the violent movement.

From there, it’s all-out war. Noctis’ fingers feel frozen stiff, and his hair and clothes are wet, sticking to him. Ignis and Gladiolus both give as good as they get, and Noctis doesn’t even know who is winning anymore. He doesn’t even care.

“Noctis!” A voice calls out, breaking the spell of laughter and snow.

Noctis’ stomach feels colder than his hands. The guard is in the archway, hands on her hips. “I told you-“ She cuts herself off and looks behind her. “All of you need to hurry and _change,_ ” she says as she waves them forwards.

None of them need to be told twice. They race down the hallways, Gladiolus in the lead.

It takes too long to dress and rub at their hair. Noctis can feel it in the pit of his stomach, in the way his scar aches in the cold. He meets Ignis outside his room, and Gladiolus emerges from the door down the hall a moment later.

“Come on.” Noctis leads the way. Putting it off will just make it worse.

 

The King is waiting for them by the doors to the grand ballroom. Noctis’ stomach drops when he realises the doors are closed. Clarus – Gladiolus’ father, bodyguard to the King – is standing in front of them, with an expression that’s even angrier than the King’s.

Noctis' feet feel weighed down as he walks towards them, flanked by Ignis and Gladiolus.

“How am I supposed to trust you with this country when I can’t even trust you to behave yourself for _one_ night?” The King is glaring down at Noctis, speaking before they can even have the chance to address him.

Noctis tries to glare back, but part of him wants to run back into his room and hide his face in a pillow.

“It’s my fault, your majesty,” Gladiolus speaks up before Noctis can. “I thought burning off some energy would do the prince some good.” Noctis notices Clarus’ expression darkening.

Noctis shakes his head. “He’s lying. It was my idea.” He meets his father’s glare, squaring his shoulders. He can feel Gladiolus tensing beside him.

The King looks between them both, then glances towards Ignis. “The truth, please, Ignis.” His voice is dangerously soft.

Noctis tries to catch Ignis’ eye, but the boy won’t look at him. “Your majesty, I wasn’t there when they discussed it.” He bows slightly and the movement makes his glasses slip down his nose.

“What do you think, Clarus?” Regis turns slightly to look at the other man.

“Neither of us raised our sons to be liars. Punish them both.” His voice is gruff. He glances towards Ignis and continues, “And this one, for going off with them.”

“Two years in a row,” Regis says softly, under his breath.

Fear coils around Noctis’ stomach like healing magic, twisting coldly through him. “I-,” he has to stop to clear his throat, “I take the responsibility. All of it. And the punishment, too. So leave Ignis and Gladiolus out of it.” He keeps his back straight and his eyes on his father's. “Please,” he adds in a quieter voice.

Both of them start to speak, but the King holds up a hand and the boys fall silent. “Clarus?” Regis is watching Noctis.

“If it’s what the prince wants.” Noctis can see the man shrugging out of the corner of his eye. “Shall I escort the other two back inside?”

“Yes, thank you.” The King nods.

Clarus opens one of the doors and waits. Ignis and Gladiolus both give him worried looks before they slip through, back into the party. Gladiolus’ father closes the door behind them, leaving Noctis and the King alone in the hallway.

“He only lied to protect me,” Noctis says, breaking the silence. “That’s his job, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Regis lets out a sigh. “But it’s your duty, as prince, not to put them in unnecessary danger.”

“We were still in the palace,” Noctis protests. “You’ve always said the palace isn’t dangerous.”

“And when you went outside the palace with young Iris?” His father raises an eyebrow slightly.

Noctis flushes and looks down at his feet. He can’t admit that he lied to protect _her_. “I wasn’t thinking about the danger then,” he says slowly. “But I won’t do it again.”

“How can I believe you when you told me two hours ago that you’d behave tonight?” His father’s voice is soft, and Noctis looks up to meet his gaze.

“I-,” Noctis swallows. He doesn’t have any excuse. “I’m sorry.” He looks down again, at his snow-dampened shoes.

His father puts a heavy hand on Noctis’ shoulder. “I know you are, son. Try to prove it next year.” His fingers squeeze slightly.

“I will.” Noctis looks up and nods. “I promise, dad.”

Regis squeezes Noctis’ shoulder again. “Then let’s re-join the party while I consider your punishment.”

Noctis swallows as his father drops his hand and taps his knuckles against the door. Clarus opens it, bowing slightly as the King walks past him.

Noctis takes a deep breath before he follows. As long as he finds Ignis, he thinks, he’ll be okay. Ignis can talk to the diplomats, remember all the nobles’ names. And Gladiolus can brave the buffet table, cover Noctis’ shy silence with jokes.

They can _protect_ him. Noctis feels like an idiot for not realizing it sooner.

 

The rest of the night isn’t as awful as Noctis thought it would be. It’s still the worst Christmas he can remember, but having his friends by his side helps. Especially when Gladiolus manages to snag the last of Noctis’ favourite kind of tart. He shares it with them both, hiding behind the corner of the buffet table, looking out at the party.

“Next year we’re staying inside, right?” Ignis asks, adjusting his glasses.

“Yeah.” Noctis nods. “You better learn how to dance.”

Ignis’ pained expression makes Gladiolus burst out laughing, and Noctis grins. Until he remembers that _he’ll_ have to dance too, and then he groans, putting his head in his hands.

“Oh, this will be _fun_.” Gladiolus chuckles.

“You should bring your sister,” Noctis says, trying not to sound too much like he’s pleading.

“She’s too young for you.” Gladiolus crosses his arms over his chest.

“But not too young that he can’t dance with her,” Ignis points out. “It’s not a bad idea.”

“I’ll think about it,” Gladiolus’ voice is gruff. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Come on,” Ignis moves out from behind the table. “The night is almost over. Consider it practice, Noctis.”

Noctis groans again as he follows behind Ignis, Gladiolus by his side. It’s the safest place in the room, Noctis thinks, smiling to himself.

 

His punishment is more lessons with his tutors. Dance, etiquette, politics. Every time he considers hiding a comic between the pages of the books, he remembers his father’s face and decides against it. A promise is a promise, even if learning how to dance _sucks_. He can’t even show off to Luna, not anymore. But he can still tell her about it when she sends Umbra back with the red leather book, and that’s almost the same, right?

Besides, he can’t disappoint Iris, who sends him a hand-drawn Christmas card via Gladiolus. It’s two days late and covered with glitter, but it’s the only one he asks Ignis to frame. Noctis keeps it on his desk and tries to decipher it when he gets stuck on his homework.

By the time the snow has melted and he’s no longer grounded, Noctis thinks it’s probably a tree. _Probably_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was really obnoxious to write for some reason, and i hope it doesn't show~ ^^;;


	4. the fourth Christmas

“Stop _moving_ ,” Ignis snaps as he slaps Noctis’ hand away from the buttons for the third time in a row.

“Dad’s going to _kill_ me if I’m late,” Noctis groans, looking down at Ignis’ hands quickly doing up the buttons on his suit jacket. It’s their fourth attempt at getting them straight, and Noctis is seriously considering shoving the jacket into the closest fireplace.

“And _I’m_ going to kill you if you don’t stop _moving_ ,” Ignis glares up at Noctis as he checks the buttons he’s already done.

They decided – well, Ignis decided – to start from the bottom this time, so that they (he) can’t miss any of the tiny buttons again. Noctis is pretty sure there’s a hundred of the stupid things, and he wishes he’d checked his garment bag earlier.

Technically, it’s Gladiolus’ fault. Noctis’ dad was so proud of his grades that he agreed to get Noctis the latest gaming console for the winter break. And he and Gladiolus had spent most of the week playing it together while Ignis watched and made suggestions they usually ignored. At least the first time. For someone so terrible at _playing_ the game, Ignis comes up with some pretty good strategies.

And Gladiolus had come by after lunch, determined to finally beat the boss they were stuck on. Which they'd done. And then the next area, and then the next boss, and then Ignis had barged in with damp hair and started swearing under his breath, because the party was in an _hour_ and they were supposed to be getting ready.

At least they _had_ managed to beat the boss, Noctis thinks as he watches Ignis' long fingers. Except that wasn't worth breaking his promise to his dad, the promise that he'd reminded Noctis about over lunch.

"Stop squirming, Noct," Ignis says, poking the prince in the chest with a finger. "I'm almost done."

"Laaaate," Noctis whines, glancing towards the clock. It's precisely the time Noctis planned to meet his father by the doorway to the ballroom.

Ignis smooths the suit out over Noctis' chest, his head bobbing as he checks the buttons. "You're done," he says, stepping out of the way.

Noctis rushes past him, then out the door and down the hallway. He can hear Ignis behind him. Gladiolus is probably already waiting with Iris inside the ballroom.

At least all the running Gladiolus has been making them do pays off, and it doesn’t take long to run towards the ballroom. Noctis hurries down the last hallway, half running and half walking, and his father lifts his hand and taps at his wrist.

"Sorry!" Noctis pants, hands on his knees. "The stupid jacket-"

"No excuses, Noctis," His father puts a hand on his shoulder and pulls him upright. "It’s time.”

Noctis turns to Ignis, who pats at Noctis’ hair and straightens his collar before nodding. Noctis barely has time for a deep breath before his father nods to Clarus, who pushes the doors open himself.

It’s the most boring part of the entire party. Noctis follows beside his father, his heart still thudding in his chest. They go up to the dais, and the crowd falls silent. Noctis tries to find Gladiolus, but too many eyes want to hold his, and he ends up staring at some point beyond the tops of people’s heads.

He doesn’t bother to listen to the speech. It’s the same every year, just with different words. He watches his father out of the corner of his eye as he gestures and smiles towards the crowd. Mostly, he thinks about the game he’d rather be playing with Gladiolus in his room. But Iris is here, and that makes Noctis smile faintly before he can stop himself.

The speech isn’t long, and the King leaves the dais before Noctis, Clarus at his side. Noctis follows behind, looking behind him for Ignis. He always stands by the doors, even though Clarus stands a step behind and to the right of the King.

“Did you see Gladio?” Noctis asks as Ignis approaches.

“Not yet,” Ignis says as he falls into step beside Noctis.

Noctis walks slowly, because Gladiolus will have seen _him_ , and the slower he walks, the less chance he has of getting swept up by the people clustering around the King in front of them.

Ignis glides in front of him when one of the women breaks off and steps towards Noctis, beaming at them.

“Prince Noctis, you’re looking well,” she curtseys slightly, a drink in her hand.

“Thank you,” Noctis mumbles, trying not to hide _completely_ behind Ignis.

“Lady Adridere,” Ignis interrupts before the woman can speak again, “it’s lovely to see you again. Has your sister recovered?”

“Oh, yes, thank you,” the woman barely bats an eye at the topic change. “She sent you a letter, I believe.”

Noctis _really_ wants to ask about that letter, but Ignis is drawing away, taking the woman with him. He glances around, hoping that Gladiolus is nearby.

“Noctis!” A voice calls out, and then something slams into his legs, almost knocking him off balance.

“Hello, Iris,” Noctis gently pats at her shoulder. The girl hugs him hard around his waist and he has to be careful not to flinch.

Gladiolus shrugs at Noctis as he steps closer. “I told her to be on her best behaviour, you know.”

“Oh,” Iris drops her arms and steps back quickly. “S-Sorry, Prince Noctis.” She fumbles a curtsey.

“It’s alright, Iris,” Noctis smiles down at her. “What do you think of the party?”

“It’s _crowded_ ,” Iris complains. Noctis catches Ignis’ eye, and the older boy nods slightly. “Are you still going to dance with me?”

“Of course. Do you want to dance now?” Noctis smiles down at her.

“Yeah!” She nods enthusiastically, and her hairstyle seems to wobble slightly. “Come on.” She grabs his sleeve and tugs him out towards the dance floor.

Noctis follows, and Gladiolus follows him. “You better not stand on her toes,” Gladiolus mutters.

“You’ve _seen_ me taking lessons,” Noctis points out. Iris has shifted to holding his hand and looking around with wide eyes.

Gladiolus just scoffs as Ignis approaches them.

“So what letter?” Noctis asks before Ignis can say anything, and it makes Ignis flush slightly.

“Lady Adridere’s younger sister is in some of my classes,” Ignis mutters, tugging at his collar. “She fell ill and I sent her the class notes.”

Gladiolus and Noctis both make a teasing ‘ooh’ sound in unison, and Iris turns to look between them all with a confused expression.

“Iggy’s got a _crush_ ,” Gladiolus teases.

“I do _not,_ ” Ignis says sharply. “I’m not her type, anyway.”

“What is her type?” Noctis asks as they reach the edge of the dance floor.

“Lord Ehoi’s daughter,” Ignis mutters, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Ouch.” Gladiolus slaps Ignis’ back. “Better luck next time, huh?”

“Come _on_ ,” Iris tugs Noctis onto the dance floor impatiently.

“Sorry, Iris.” Noctis turns to give her his full attention. He can see Ignis and Gladiolus bickering out of the corner of his eye as he puts his hand on Iris’ shoulder.

She grins at him as they start dancing, and it’s such a bright smile it makes the lessons worth it. Noctis leads her around the dance floor, and Iris must have been taking lessons too, because she doesn’t step on his toes at all. Although the height difference makes things a little awkward.

He twirls her around twice in a row on her insistence, and Iris giggles as her skirts billow out around her legs. “Again!”

Noctis shakes his head. “You’ll get dizzy,” he tells her, and Iris pouts at him, almost cute enough to make him change his mind. “So we’ll have to space the twirling out, okay?”

“ _Okay,_ ” Iris grumbles.

Noctis grins at her. “If I let you get sick, Gladio will kick my a-behind.”

“He kicks your behind _anyway,_ ” Iris points out. “He says he’d have better luck teaching _me_ to fight.”

“Maybe he should,” Noctis says, feeling a little sly. “I bet you’d be great at it.”

Iris grins wide enough for Noctis to notice she’s missing a couple of teeth. “Can I come train with _you_?”

“Hmm.” Noctis considers. “Probably not until you’re a little older.” He feels a little guilty to be the one to tell her the bad news.

Iris pouts again. “Not fair,” she mutters.

“Neither is training with your brother,” Noctis says gently. “He fights _mean_.”

Iris scrunches up her face. “But Gladdy isn’t mean to me.”

“Well, you’re lucky.” Noctis twirls her again, and Iris giggles.

He notices some of the other dancers eyeing him, and Noctis begins to lead them back to the edge of the dance floor, before they can swoop on him like vultures and ask him to switch partners.

Iris makes an annoyed noise as she realises what Noctis has done.  “No _fair_ ,” she whines, “I wanted to dance _more_.”

“And I want to dance more with you too,” Noctis tells her as they approach Ignis and Gladiolus. “But if I stay out there too long, _other_ people will want to dance with me.”

Iris makes a face, and Noctis surprises himself by laughing softly at it. “You can always dance with your brother.” He holds her hand again as they leave the dance floor.

“Gladdy sucks at dancing,” Iris grumbles, and Gladiolus rolls his eyes.

“Dance with Ignis, then,” Gladiolus says, giving the other boy a wicked grin.

“But-“ Ignis protests, touching a hand to his glasses.

“Yeah, Ignis, dance with me!” Iris lets Noctis’ hand go and rushes towards Ignis, grabbing his other hand and tugging him. “Come on, come on!”

“But I’m not a good dancer!” Ignis is protesting, but it makes no difference to Iris.

Noctis chuckles as he stands beside Gladiolus, watching them make their way out into the crowd of dancers. “He’s going to stand on her toes, you know,” he tells Gladiolus with another grin.

“Then she’ll stand on his,” Gladiolus says, sounding a little proud.

“Did you teach her?” Noctis can’t help smiling at how ridiculously cute Iris and Ignis look dancing. She’s bossing him around, leading the dance.

“I _tried_.” Gladiolus huffs. “I wasn’t good enough for her. She’s been taking lessons after school, just so she could impress you.” Gladiolus glares at Noctis out of the corner of his eyes.

“Well, consider me impressed,” Noctis says carefully. “If I stay out there, I’m just worried people will want to cut in. And I don’t want Iris throwing a tantrum.”

Gladiolus grunts. “Yeah. Just dance with her again later, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

 

It doesn’t take long for Iris to get sick of Ignis’ terrible dancing, and she drags him off the dance floor with an annoyed expression.

Ignis looks exceptionally put out and red-faced, and Noctis struggles not to laugh at him.

“Ignis _sucks_.” Iris declares, attaching herself again to Noctis’ hand. “Don’t you teach your friends how to dance?”

“Apparently not,” Noctis says, smiling down at her. “Come on then, let’s show them how it’s done.”

Iris beams up at him as they make their way back out onto the dance floor.

Noctis dances like he’s in the training room with Gladiolus, avoiding the other swirling partners, sweeping him and Iris out of the way so that no one can even get close enough to _consider_ asking to cut in. Iris doesn’t seem to mind – every time he checks her expression, she’s grinning madly, showing the gaps between her teeth.

Noctis angles them towards the buffet table after five or six songs. He’s getting thirsty, and Iris must be too. He’s lost sight of Ignis and Gladiolus, but they’re probably watching them from somewhere else.

“Come on,” Noctis breaks the comfortable silence. “Let’s get something to drink.”

“Okay.” Iris nods, her cheeks flushed. They walk hand-in-hand to the buffet table, and Noctis scans the drink trays for water.

Iris reaches for one of the champagne glasses, and Noctis flinches. “Iris, no, it’s-“

Noctis’ warning is too late. Iris takes a gulp of the champagne, then spits it out in a violent spray. All over Noctis’ jacket.

As soon as she realises what she’s done, Iris’ face crumples and tears fill her eyes. “N-Noct,” she wails, “I’m _sorry_ -“

“It’s okay!” Noctis leans down and holds her shoulders. He’d hug her, but then her pretty dress would get ruined too. “Please Iris, it’s alright.” He takes the glass from her trembling fingers before she can drop it and make a bigger mess.

Iris sniffles and wipes at her face. “But-“

“It’s okay. I don’t like this jacket anyway.” He grimaces down at it, pulling at the cloth. “So many buttons!”

Iris gives him a wobbly smile. Noctis stands and puts the glass back on the table, and a waiter scoops it up and away before Noctis can even say thank you.

“How about you come and help me pick another one to wear?” Noctis says, glancing behind Iris and looking for Ignis and Gladiolus. They’re lost in the crowd, no matter how hard he looks.

“Can I really?” Iris asks, her eyes wide and sparkling.

Noctis nods and offers his hand. He can feel his shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin, but he’s not going to blame Iris for it. “Of course you can. Come on.”

He leads them straight for the nearest door, glancing behind him for Gladiolus and Ignis. He can’t _see_ them, which is worrying. Which means they’re probably worrying about _him_. Well, Ignis might be. Gladiolus would be more worried about his sister.

“Excuse me,” Noctis says to one of the guards, a tall woman who smiles down at him. “Can you see Ignis or Gladiolus anywhere?”

The woman looks over his head, scanning the crowd. “I’m afraid not, Prince. They might be by the buffet table, and it’s hard to make out anyone in that mess.”

“Can you tell them, if you see them, that I’ve taken Iris to my room so I can change my jacket?” Noctis waves his free hand towards the damp stains, and Iris sniffles at his side. “It’s okay, Iris,” he says softly.

“Of course, Prince.” The woman inclines her head. “Hurry back, or your father will worry.”

“I know,” Noctis tries not to sigh. “Thank you.”

The woman nods again and Noctis leads Iris from the ballroom, squeezing her hand.

“It tastes pretty bad, huh?” Noctis says, when Iris sniffles again.

“Y-Yeah,” Iris mumbles, making a face towards the ground.

“I tried it once too,” Noctis tells her in a quiet voice. “And I did almost the same thing.”

Iris looks up and studies his face. “Really?”

“Really,” Noctis nods. “I don’t know how adults like that stuff.” He pulls an exaggerated face.

Iris giggles and squeezes his hand. “Adults are silly.”

“They are,” Noctis agrees.

He glances behind him a few times, half-expecting to see Ignis or Gladiolus or both of them behind him. But the hallways are empty. He hopes Gladiolus isn’t worrying too much, and the thought makes him feel uneasy.

“Here we are,” He stops in front of his door and grins. “You’re the third person I’ve ever let into my room, you know.”

“Really?” Iris looks up at him with wide eyes.

“Yep,” Noctis nods. “I only let my friends in."

He opens the door and the lights flick on automatically.

Iris gasps and lets Noctis’ hand go, beating him into the room and turning around as she looks at everything. “It’s so big!”

Noctis feels a little embarrassed. “It’s not my fault. Come on,” he holds out a hand.

Iris looks around a little longer before she takes it. “I want a big room like this,” she tells Noctis as he leads them to the dressing room.

“But you’d have to clean it,” Noctis teases.

Iris makes a face. “I hate cleaning.”

“Me too,” Noctis shudders. “Okay, pick a jacket,” he waves his hand towards the line of them hanging up on one side of the dressing room.

Iris lets his hand go and starts rummaging through the sleeves. At least the hangers are low enough to the ground that she doesn’t have much trouble.

“This one,” Iris says, pulling one of the jackets out.

“You picked already?” Noctis is a little surprised.

Iris nods, and passes Noctis the jacket. “Almost no buttons,” she grins.

Noctis grins back. At least all of his suits are black, so he doesn’t have to worry _too_ much about matching. And there are only four silver buttons on it. “Alright.” He squeezes Iris’ shoulder with his other hand. “Now I need a shirt.”

Iris follows behind him as Noctis opens the drawer and pulls the first one out. No one’s going to see it under the jacket, so it doesn’t matter. He can almost hear Ignis sighing at him.

“Alright,” he smiles at Iris. “Why don’t you go wait outside while I get changed?”

“Okay!” Iris nods at him. “Um, can I use your bathroom?” she looks down at the ground as she asks.

“Of course. It’s that door there.” Noctis points at the door opposite the dressing room.

Iris beams at him before hurrying towards the door and closing it behind her.

The _stupid_ buttons take forever. Noctis really wants to just rip them out, but then he’d lose them in the carpet and his dad would be mad at him for ruining it and he’d have to visit the tailor _again_ and it’s better to just carefully undo them all. One by each stupid one. He scowls down at the jacket when he’s done, wanting to just wad it up and throw it into the back of the dressing room.

He finds the coat hanger instead and hangs it up by the door. At least Iris is probably done in the bathroom by now.

Noctis knocks on the door anyway before pushing it open. It's unlocked, and the lights flicker on as he enters the empty room.

He strips out of his shirt quickly and then rubs at his sticky skin with a wet face cloth. And then he has to put on the new shirt, with all of _its_ buttons, and Noctis feels like he just wants to wear t-shirts for the rest of his life. At least he can do the jacket up quickly. He checks his reflection and makes a face at himself in the mirror.

“Iris?” Noctis calls as he leaves the hallway.

His room is empty, and Noctis’ stomach feels like it sinks all the way to his toes. The curtains are fluttering by the doors to the garden.

“Damnit.” Noctis rubs at his eyes for a moment before hurrying across the room.

It’s snowing outside, making the light bloom around the lanterns. “Iris?” he calls out, squinting into the dark garden. His chest feels tight. Gladiolus will _kill_ him if anything happens to her. “Iris!” he calls out again, louder.

“Noct!” Iris calls out, and Noctis hurries towards the voice, his feet crunching in the snow. She’s around the bend in the path.

“What are you-“ Noctis cuts himself off when he sees her.

She’s crouched in front of a cat, gently patting it. The cat is meowing and nuzzling at Iris’ hand. “I heard it meowing,” Iris says, looking guilty. “And it’s cold out here…” Her skin is covered in goose bumps, Noctis realises.

He unbuttons his jacket and takes a careful step towards her. The cat doesn’t seem to mind, and Noctis puts his jacket over Iris’ shoulders. “Why don’t you bring it inside?” Noctis says gently.

“Okay,” Iris smiles up at him. She scoops the cat up, and it headbutts her chin as she straightens. Iris giggles and presses her chin against its head.

Noctis shakes his head as he puts his arm around her shoulder and leads her back inside. “You’re not going to want to go back to the party now, are you?” he mutters, half to himself.

“Can I get something for the cat to eat?” Iris asks as she steps through the door to Noctis’ room.

Noctis closes the door, shutting out the cold air. “Of course you can.” He tries not to sigh. His father has probably noticed Noctis’ absence. And where’s Gladiolus and Ignis, anyway?

His bedroom door slams open, and the cat leaps out of Iris’ arms and runs under the couch. Iris follows, squealing something about ‘poor kitty,’ and Gladiolus barges across the room and grabs Noctis by the collar.

“I told you-“

“She’s fine!” Noctis chokes out. “Right there!” He points.

Gladiolus sets Noctis down and turns towards his sister, who’s half under the couch and making cooing noises.

“You made me _worry_ ,” Gladiolus mutters.

“Iris had an accident with some champagne so I had to change my stupid jacket,” Noctis explains. “And then, uh, she found a cat.”

Gladiolus groans, putting his hands over his face. “Iris, not another one.”

“But it was _cold_ , Gladdy,” Iris’ voice is a little muffled from under the couch. “I can’t just _leave_ it.”

Gladiolus groans something from under his fingers.

“Where’s Ignis?” Noctis asks, glancing towards the open door.

Gladiolus lowers his hands. “Distracting your father. Look, I’ll deal with Iris. You better get back before he notices you’re gone.”

"Okay. She's got my jacket though." Noctis nods towards the couch.

Gladiolus grunts and crouches by the couch, putting a hand on Iris’ back. "Come on, the prince needs his jacket back."

"Oh, right." Iris squirms out from under the couch and shrugs out of it. "Thanks, Noct," she smiles at him as she passes it over.

"Anytime, Iris," he smiles back.

 

He shrugs on his jacket as he hurries back to the ballroom. Excuses bubble up in his throat, how it wasn’t his fault, but then he feels guilty for wanting to blame Iris at all. He should have stopped her from drinking it in the first place, should have-

Noctis shakes his head as he rushes through the hallways. There’s no point in thinking about it now. He buttons his jacket up as he passes through the doorway to the ballroom.

His father is near the dais, with Clarus and Ignis by his sides. Noctis swallows hard and pushes his hair out of his eyes as he walks over, his legs feeling heavy.

“Noctis,” his father greets him. “You were wearing a different jacket earlier.”

“Something spilled on it,” Noctis says, glancing towards Ignis. The boy gives him a faint smile and adjusts his glasses. “I had to go change.” He swallows the excuses in his throat.

“I see,” his father nods slowly. “I saw you dancing with young lady Amicitia. You made a lovely pair.”

“I-Thank you,” Noctis says, trying to read the expression on his father’s face.

“But perhaps you should allow _other_ young ladies to dance with you,” the King suggests in that way that isn’t a suggestion at all.

Noctis sighs. “Okay.” He can feel his shoulders droop as he looks down at his father’s shoes.

The King puts a hand on Noctis’ shoulder and squeezes it gently. “Though perhaps you and young Ignis should get yourselves some food first. I believe the cake will be arriving soon.”

Noctis glances up in time to see his father smiling faintly at him. “Alright,” he smiles back, tentative. “Um.” He turns towards Clarus. “Iris found a cat, sir…” he trails off as Clarus’ expression shifts.

“Not another one,” Clarus says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“She’s with Gladiolus,” Noctis adds, but that just makes the man shake his head slightly.

“It seems we both have wayward children,” Regis says softly, smiling towards Clarus.

“It seems so,” Clarus groans.

Noctis catches Ignis’ gaze and tilts his head. Ignis bows towards the King, and Noctis inclines his head. Then they escape towards the buffet table, dodging elbows and plates.

 

Noctis spends the rest of the party dancing until his feet ache and his mouth hurts from forcing smiles. At least no one seems to expect him to talk much, beyond the polite inquiries about their health and how well they’re looking. He ends up his cheek pinched a few times, which makes his face hurt even _more_.

“Your face is red,” Ignis says when Noctis finally escapes towards the buffet table, picked almost bare.

“They _pinch,_ ” Noctis whines, finding an untouched glass of water.

Ignis chuckles. “They’ll only get worse, you know,” he glances towards the emptying dance floor.

“Don’t remind me,” Noctis yawns, his jaw cracking. “Did Gladio ever come back?”

“He took Iris and their new cat home,” Ignis explains. “I managed to bring her some cake just before they left.”

“That’s nice of you.” Noctis finishes his water and sets the glass down. “A new cat, huh?”

“I believe she’s going to call this one Snowflake,” Ignis says, pushing at his hair. “On account of it snowing when she found it.”

“Hey, she’s only six,” Noctis points out. “It fits right in with, what were the others?” He holds up his hand and ticks off the names on his fingers. “Whiskers, Kitty-Cat, Fluffy…”

“You forgot Flopsy,” Ignis says, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Which really, is more of a rabbit name than anything else,” he adds under his breath.

Noctis grins and slings his arm around Ignis’ shoulders. “Come on, Iggy. Let’s get out of here.”

“You just want my help with that game again, don’t you?” Ignis says, eyeing Noctis suspiciously from the corner of his eye.

Noctis grins in response, and Ignis sighs heavily. “Gladiolus will be disappointed you’re playing without him.”

“Who said I’d be playing without him?” Noctis says. “I’m going to teach _you_ to play.”

Ignis sighs again, which just makes Noctis grin harder.

 

When Gladiolus visits the next day to beat the game, he tells them that Iris named the cat Christmas instead. He’s already got a dozen photos of the fluffy ginger cat on his phone, and he coos about it almost as much as Iris had.

At least until Ignis joins them to play the game, and then Gladiolus is too busy complaining about how terrible he is. Until Ignis destroys Gladiolus' character twice in a row with a smug smile. And then the two of them spend an hour beating each other’s virtual selves up while Noctis laughs until his stomach hurts as much as his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one ended up a little long, oops ^^;;
> 
> (also I haven't met Iris in-game yet, so i don't know how well this one will stick to canon~)


	5. the fifth Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the ultimania lists Iris' canon age, which was a year younger than i guessed. i've edited her age in chapter 4~
> 
> i am also putting a **TRIGGER WARNING** for a nightmare involving multiple deaths (including animal)/slight gore. scroll/ctrl+F to the ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to avoid it.
> 
> if you're here for fluff, don't worry! there's still fluff. it's just slightly angstier this year ♥

In the dream, Noctis is running. He _knows_ it’s a dream, but he can feel the asphalt under his feet, feel his chest heaving with every panting breath. He can see them in the distance - the small, blurred figures of his friends. No matter how fast he runs, no matter how many times he clumsily warp strikes towards them, they never get any closer.

All he can do is watch. Listen. Scream.

The Marilith tears them down one by one. Just like the last time, and the time before that. The only difference is _how_ his friends die while he watches, close enough to see and too far to help.

Gladiolus swings his sword, as tall as he is and half as wide. But the daemon slithers out of the way and swings one of her own weapons. Noctis squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to see the spray of blood, Gladiolus’ twisted face.

But he can still hear the scream of his friend as he dies, hear Iris’ anguished cry, a battle-scream that echoes in his eardrums until he’s not sure where her voice ends and his begins.

Light blossoms against the backs of his eyes. Ignis’ magic, lighting up the sky. Noctis opens his eyes because he can’t _stop_ himself from opening his eyes.

Gladiolus’ body is lying twisted and bloody, and Iris is crouched over it, screaming. Ignis is standing in front of them, fire spilling from his hands.

A candle against a hurricane.

The Marilith strikes forward, lifts Ignis with two hands. Squeezes. Rips. _Tears_.

Noctis’ feet drag him uselessly forward. He never gets closer.

Iris is sobbing, the sound piercing straight through Noctis’ heart like a lance. He closes his eyes, covers his ears with his hands.

It doesn’t make a difference. He can still hear her screaming. The sound of the monster’s teeth crunching her bones between them.

And then it’s silent, and Noctis falls to his knees.

He never hits the ground.

His father puts a heavy hand on Noctis’ shoulder. He bends towards Noctis, his voice whispering and scratchy. The rings on the King’s fingers bite into Noctis’ skin. He can’t understand a word his father is saying.

Regis’ skin starts to melt. His face is pressed up against Noctis’, and it’s impossible not to notice. If he closes his eyes, he can still _feel_ it. Smell it. Rotten, decaying flesh. The drips of skin sliding down the front of Noctis’ shirt. He shudders, and his father’s nails pierce through Noctis’ skin.

His eyes fly open, and a skull is looking down at him. Its grin is red and bloody and wet, and Noctis screws his eyes shut and swallows the bile in his throat.

He takes a step backwards. He trips over the air.

Then he falls.

Luna is standing before him. She’s on a pyre, her white dress black with ash and smoke. Umbra and Pryna are tied by her feet, whimpering and writhing. Their whimpering gets louder the higher the flames climb. Luna is crying, struggling against the ropes holding her in place.

Noctis reaches out a hand, but no matter how hard he tries, no matter how _deep_ he reaches inside of him for the magic, it never comes.

Luna screams when she burns, and he can _smell_ the smoke, clogging up his nose, his mouth, and he’s eight years old and has a mouthful of dirt-

The dogs scream too, and it’s even _worse_.

Noctis stumbles to his knees, reaching towards them, tears hot on his cheeks.

He falls.

The crystal is before him. Jagged spikes reach towards him like fingers, spilling out of its case. He can see his reflection. Old. Silver-haired and leaning on a cane. He takes a step, and agony shoots through his leg. The crystal shimmers.

He’s younger, still older. Smiling, but when Noctis reaches a hand to his lips the reflection doesn’t move. The Noctis in the crystal grins wider, and he looks so happy Noctis wants to cry.

The crystal shatters, exploding out all at once.

Noctis feels every shard as it drives into him, scraping and piercing and _agonizing_. He tries to scream, but his breath bubbles out around the jagged shard in his throat. His fingers scrabble for his neck, but all he can feel is the blood, slick and wet between his fingers.

Noctis crumples to his knees.

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

He bolts upright in bed, panting for air. He can still feel the blood on his hands, and he scrubs them against the blankets as he presses his head to his knees.

It’s just a dream, he tells himself, but he’s shaking and sweating and his heart won’t stop pounding in his ears. He’s been telling himself the same lie for months, ever since his father decided he was old enough to start training with the crystal. It haunts his dreams, _whispering_ through the darkness.

Maybe eventually he’ll be able to believe the lie.

He glances towards the door that separates his room from Ignis’. There’s a soft glow of light spilling out from underneath the door.

Noctis glances towards the clock. The numbers glow faintly in the darkness. It’s after one. Christmas already, technically.

The nightmare presses against Noctis’ thoughts. How does he _know_ Ignis is in there studying? What if he _isn’t_?

The harder Noctis tries to ignore his thoughts, the louder they get. He scrambles out of bed in one movement before he can stop himself. His legs feel wooden, but his knees feel like jelly. He has to concentrate so that he doesn’t stumble. Doesn’t fall.

What if he kept falling, what if he never woke up at all- Noctis shakes his head.

The sweat on his hands feels as sticky as the blood, and he wipes them against his pyjama pants.

“Ignis?” he calls out, gently rapping his knuckles against the wood. He needs to _know_.

Ignis opens the door. “Noct?”

For a second Noctis just stares. Ignis’ hair is messy, like he’s been running his hands through it all night. The top two buttons on his shirt are undone, and it’s the most _rumpled_ Noctis has ever seen him. Noctis looks down, clenches his trembling hands. “I can’t sleep,” he says, and it’s only half a lie.

He can feel Ignis looking him over. Noctis hopes he isn’t trembling as much as he thinks he is.

“I was just about to make some more coffee,” Ignis says, stepping out of the way. “Come on.”

Ignis’ room looks more like a library than the last time Noctis was in it. There’s a little fridge shoved beside Ignis’ desk, with a coffee machine and a tray with cups and sugar on it. Noctis glances at the pile of books and papers on the desk. The titles make him shudder, and he flops onto the couch.

“You know,” Noctis has to clear his throat, “the university wouldn’t notice if you took _one_ night off studying.”

“But _I_ would,” Ignis says dryly as he fiddles with the machine.

“Isn’t it too late for coffee?” Noctis asks, hugging his knees to his chest and resting his chin on them.

“It is _entirely_ too late for coffee,” Ignis turns and gives Noctis a faint smile, “but you don’t look like you’ll be sleeping any time soon.”

Noctis shakes his head slightly. He wants Ignis to keep talking, but he doesn’t know what to say.

“And I still need to finish one of my assignments,” Ignis continues as he turns back to the machine. “But maybe a break would do me some good. Why don’t you go and get your homework?”

Noctis groans. Homework. He presses his forehead against his knees and takes a deep breath. Ignis isn’t going to vanish if he leaves the room for a minute. “Okay.” He slides off the couch and slips out of the room.

All his restless nights have been making him doze off in class. His grades have been slipping so far - and so fast - that he’s got homework to do over the winter break. A _lot_ of homework. His father took away his gaming consoles weeks ago, as if that would make the nightmares go away.

Noctis had wanted to stand up, slam his hands on the table. He’d wanted to yell that it wasn’t _his_ fault he couldn’t sleep. But the King had been looking at him over the table, and Noctis had just swallowed his anger and pushed his dinner around his plate. The nightmares would fade, his father had told him. If school was too distracting, he’d pull Noctis out. Give him tutors again.

He doesn’t even especially _like_ going to school. The other kids mostly just stare and whisper behind their hands. He spends most of his lunchtimes hiding behind the buildings, hoping no one finds him there. So far, no one has.

Except for that blond kid, the one with the camera. He’d been puppy-eager and tripping over his own feet. And then he’d stumbled and fallen, and Noctis had rushed to help him up. Except he’d been so _tired_ that he’d muttered something he shouldn’t have. At least the ringing of the class bell had let him escape the awkward situation. Noctis had tried to apologize later, but the boy avoided him. He didn’t even know his _name_.

But at least school gives him the _chance_ to be around people his own age. People that aren’t Gladiolus or Ignis. People that aren’t _bound_ to him. The crown. His father.

Noctis slides the door open and goes out into the garden. The wintry air makes him shiver, but Noctis walks out onto the snow until he can see the sky.

The Wall is glimmering between the clouds. Safe and sound. Noctis’ breath comes out in a plume in front of him. He goes back inside and locks the door behind him.

Ignis has the coffee ready when Noctis returns with his books. He’s even cleared off the table, stacked his books neatly out of the way. Noctis feels a pang of guilt as he puts his messy pile of books in the middle of all that tidy organization.

“Here,” Ignis smiles as he gives Noctis a mug.

Noctis looks down at, scrunching up his nose. He’s never had coffee before, and he’s not sure he likes the smell. He takes a tiny sip.

It tastes like dirt, except it’s _dead_ dirt, and it sticks to his tongue and makes him scrunch his face up even _more_.

“That’s _terrible_ ,” Noctis complains, but at least it washes out the taste of his nightmare.

“You get used to it,” Ignis says, covering his smile with his own mug.

“Maybe _you_ can get used to it,” Noctis mutters, setting the mug carefully down. It’s rude not to finish it when Ignis made it especially for him, but it tastes so _gross_.

“I’ll make it sweeter next time,” Ignis says.

“Okay,” Noctis says, sliding into Ignis’ chair. “Thanks.”

 

Ignis helps Noctis with his homework until he can’t talk through the yawns. It’s almost five in the morning, and Iggy looks as exhausted as Noctis feels.

“I’m afraid I’ll need a nap, Prince,” Ignis says, covering his mouth and yawning again.

“Sorry.” Noctis looks down at the books in front of him. The coffee cups, both of them empty. Ignis had drank Noctis’ as well, cold and probably _grosser_.

Ignis puts a hand on Noctis’ shoulder and squeezes gently. “Will you be able to get back to sleep?”

“Maybe,” Noctis lies. “Can I stay in here until I’ve finished my homework?”

Ignis doesn’t respond for a moment. “You can stay in here as long as you’d like, Prince.” Ignis’ voice is quiet, and he squeezes Noctis’ shoulder again.

For a second, it feels like his father’s skeletal claw, and Noctis flinches.

Ignis withdraws his hand before Noctis can apologize. “Do try to get _some_ sleep before the party tonight.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Noctis looks up at Ignis and gives a faint smile. “I’ll do my best.” It’s not entirely a lie, but it’s not the truth either, and it tastes worse than the coffee.

Ignis just nods and bows slightly. “Good night, Noctis.”

“G’night,” Noctis echoes.

He waits until Ignis has left the room, and then Noctis crosses his arms on the desk and rests his chin on them. He stares at the names of Ignis’ textbooks until the letters blur in his vision.

It would be more productive to finish his homework - they’ve gotten so much done that Noctis is almost impressed - but he doesn’t _want_ to. He closes his eyes. The nightmare springs up in his mind again, as if it’s imprinted on the backs of his eyes.

He picks a book at random and settles on Ignis’ couch, making a nest of pillows. He reads random pages even though he doesn’t understand anything. Until the words blur together. Until sunlight breaks through the curtains and paints the room in golden yellow. He yawns until his jaw hurts, but every time he shuts his eyes he sees his friends dying. He gives up and reaches for another book. It’s filled with numbers, and they make even _less_ sense.

There’s the sound of a door, and Noctis drops against the pillows, feigning sleep. If Ignis wakes up and finds him still awake… It’s easier to just pretend. He takes slow, even breaths, straining to hear footsteps. He hears the shower running, and Noctis lets out a sigh. The book feels suddenly heavy between his fingers, and he’s pretty sure he drops it onto the floor - Ignis is going to _kill_ him...-

 

Noctis jerks awake, the nightmare already slipping from his mind. Something about math, which makes Noctis glad he can’t remember it. He snuggles under the blanket someone - Ignis - has thrown over him, warm and sleepy and content.

The sunlight against the darkness of his closed eyes blossoms like Ignis’ magic, and he can _hear_ the sound of his friend screaming as he dies. Noctis jerks, and the blanket falls off him. He rubs at his eyes and wishes he could rub at his _memories_ too.

Ignis has tidied his desk, stacking Noctis’ books neatly into two piles. Finished and unfinished, Noctis guesses. There’s a covered tray in the middle, and Noctis groans as he gets up, his limbs stiff and sore.

It’s soup, thick with meat and still warm. Noctis sits down and eats, even though he doesn’t feel hungry. Focusing on the books in front of him helps. Thinking about homework. School.

Noctis is surprised when he runs out of soup. He looks down at the bowl, as though it could be hiding in some corner. But it’s not, and he covers the tray again and yawns. Eating has made him feel warm and sleepy, but he’s not _stupid_.

 

He’s on the last subject left of his homework when Ignis returns with garment bags in his hands.

“You look better,” Ignis says as he crosses the room.

Noctis scoffs. He saw himself in the mirror earlier, and the bags under his eyes are as black as his hair.

Ignis puts the bags away and comes back. “The King expressed concern about your health,” he says slowly, crossing to the couch and sitting on the edge, “but told me to remind you that your attendance tonight is mandatory.”

“Mandatory,” Noctis repeats, and the word feels heavy in his mouth. “Yeah.”

“He’s disappointed you missed lunch,” Ignis continues. “He’ll be too busy to see you until the party begins.”

“Mmm,” Noctis hums. He doesn’t want to say what he’s thinking. “Did you check our suits?”

“I did.” Ignis leans slightly back. “You have _significantly_ less buttons this year.”

Noctis’ lips curl slightly. It’s almost a smile. “That’s good. Maybe we’ll be _early_ for once.” He glances towards the clock. Nearly four. Studying makes the time fly, it seems.

“Stranger things have happened,” Ignis says, smiling. “Do you want me to check your work?”

“You don’t mind?” Noctis fiddles with his pen. “What about your assignment?”

“I can do it later,” Ignis says, standing up. “Besides, you don’t want to go back to tutors, do you?”

Noctis shakes his head and leans out of the way. “Thanks, Ignis.”

“Of course, Prince.”

 

Noctis has buttoned his suit jacket wrong twice in a row. He glares down at his fingers. Ignis offered to help, but Noctis waved him off, took the garment bag with him when he went to shower. The cold water had helped wake him up, but as soon as he stepped out into the warmth of his room he felt sleepy again.

He gives up and crosses to the door. Knocks on it.

“It’s open,” Ignis calls.

Noctis pushes the door open. Ignis is in the middle of doing up his tie.

“I’m too _tired_ for buttons,” Noctis whines.

Ignis smiles and shakes his head slightly. “But there’s only seven, Your Highness. I counted.”

Noctis scoffs. “Of course you did,” he mutters.

“I’ll make you some coffee,” Ignis says, finishing with his tie.

Noctis gives him a suspicious look. “Do we have time?”

“You’ll even have time to brush your teeth afterwards,” Ignis says, busying himself with the machine.

Noctis grimaces. “Alright.”

Ignis turns back after he’s done fiddling. He makes short work of the buttons and straightens Noctis’ collar for good measure.

Noctis manages not to flinch. At least he doesn’t have to worry about a tie. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Ignis turns back to the coffee. “Noct…” Ignis trails off, not turning around.

Noctis waits. Whatever it is, Ignis will say it eventually. Or he’ll drop it, and no amount of badgering will get him to talk again. Noctis straightens his cuffs and pushes at his hair.

The machine beeps softly. Noctis watches Ignis’ steady hands pour out sugar and milk. He even stirs it with a spoon that he sets on a saucer after he’s done.

“Here,” Ignis holds the mug out. But when Noctis reaches for it, Ignis doesn’t let go. “Noct… will you tell me if it’s too much?” His green eyes are narrowed, studying Noctis’ face.

He wants to brush it off, pretend Ignis is talking about the coffee. “I-” Noctis drops his hand, looks down at his shiny black shoes. The laces are crooked. “You can’t help,” he says instead, glancing up at Ignis from under his messy fringe.

Ignis looks at him for a long moment. “Help doesn’t always mean making a problem go away, Noctis.”

Noctis reaches for the mug and Ignis lets it go. “Later,” he says, and he’s not sure if it’s a lie or not.

“Very well.” Ignis nods and adjusts his glasses.

The coffee is sweeter, milkier. Noctis still thinks it’s disgusting, but he drinks it all. Ignis puts on his jacket, buttons it up. It makes him look older.

There’s a buzzing noise. Ignis picks his phone off the desk and smiles as he looks down at it.

Noctis’ phone is somewhere on his bed. There’s not much point when there’s only three people that would call it. “Your university friends?” he guesses as he puts the mug next to the coffee machine.

“Wishing me a nice Christmas,” Ignis confirms, tapping at the screen. “They’re having a little party of their own.”

“You didn’t want to go?” Noctis fiddles with the mug, lining the handle up just _so_.

“My place is here,” Ignis sets the phone back on the desk, connects the charger.

“That’s not what I asked,” Noctis mutters.

Ignis hums noncommittally. “Maybe I’ll go next year.”

“Oh,” Noctis says, and he turns towards the door. There’s an ugly feeling in his chest, slicking his insides with something twisting and cold. “I better brush my teeth,” he mumbles as he leaves.

 

Ignis meets him in his room, concern clear on his face. “You look pale-”

“I’m fine.” Noctis interrupts. “Let’s go.”

He takes a step, maybe two. Pain sears through his head and he stumbles, going to his knees. His heart leaps into his throat and lodges like a shard of crystal, but his knee slams onto the ground. Solid. Painful.

“Noct?” Ignis’ voice is tight with concern. There’s a hand on his shoulder, and Noctis shudders from the touch.

He can smell something. A flower. Noctis turns his head and climbs to his feet. Sylleblossoms, he realises, except that’s impossible. They’re native to Tenebrae, and…

“Luna?” Noctis breathes, barely making a sound.

The smell gets stronger, drifting around the room. Noctis can _see_ it, ethereal and sparkling blue, a breeze that disappears towards the door that leads to the garden. He takes a step, his skin prickling with goosebumps.

The colour fades from sight as Noctis puts a hand to the glass. There’s a shape out there in the snow, dark and small.

“Tell my father I’ll be there in a minute,” Noctis says, and his voice is harder than he intended it to be. The pain, he tells himself.

There’s a heartbeat of silence. “Of course, Your Highness.” Ignis’ voice is stiff.

Noctis slides the door open and closes it behind him.

“Umbra,” he says, stepping towards the dog.

Umbra is sitting in the snow, watching him. The red book is tied in a scarf around his neck and shoulders. The dog barely moves as Noctis pulls it free.

The lanterns in the garden flickered on automatically, and there's enough light to read by. He flips through the pages, the memories.

A small painting, a figure in a white dress on a background of deep blue sky. Stars that seem to glitter and shift before his eyes.

_I’m the Oracle now. Sworn to the Six._

_Merry Christmas, Prince Noctis. Sorry it hurt._

Noctis’ breath comes out in a long plume of white air. Oracle.

He leaves the door open for Umbra as he goes back into his room. The bottom drawer of his desk, the one that no one can open except him.

He flips through the stickers until he finds one he likes - a snowy garden at night. He takes his time writing out his response as neatly as he can, but his fingers tremble.

_Merry Christmas, Oracle Lunafreya. I don’t mind._

Noctis stares at the page for too many minutes, tapping the end of the pen against the paper.

_Please be careful. Don’t push yourself too hard. Good luck._

Umbra sniffs at his fingers and Noctis rubs at his head. “Good boy,” he says softly.

Umbra wags his tail and Noctis sets the book back into place in its scarf. “Get back safely, alright?”

The dog trots out of the open door. Noctis trails behind him.

He’s pretty sure the garden is empty as he slides the door shut, and Noctis shivers.

 

The door is closed behind the guard that’s waiting for him in the hallway, and Noctis swallows hard. His tongue tastes of mint.

“Merry Christmas, Altricis,” he says as he approaches.

“Prince Noctis,” his favourite guard smiles. “You’re _late_.”

“Just keeping up with tradition.” He gives her a lopsided smile. “Is he _really_ mad?”

“I would advise you to avoid him, yes,” Altricis grins. It makes her look younger. “Ready?”

Noctis adjusts his jacket again. Swallows. “Yeah.”

Altricis reaches out and gives his shoulder a squeeze. Noctis bites his tongue so that he doesn’t flinch. “You’ll be fine,” she tells him, and then she opens the door, just enough for him to slide through.

There’s a whirl of glitter and faces, and for a moment Noctis can’t see anything properly. His vision clears, and he spots his father on the dais. Altricis closes the door behind her, standing beside Noctis.

It’s comforting, standing next to someone so muscular and strong. Noctis resists the urge to hide behind her.

Ignis is standing at the back of the dais, and Noctis wants to slink over to him. But Clarus catches Noctis’ gaze and jerks his head slightly.

His feet feel heavy as he walks into place beside his father. The King doesn’t even pause in giving his speech, though he _does_ give Noctis a quick sidelong glance.

At least he missed most of the speech. He looks for Gladiolus, but there’s too many faces and it makes him feel dizzy looking into them all. He raises his gaze and stares above the swirl of heads.

Everyone claps politely when his father finishes the speech. There’s no way he can make a scene, not up here.

He settles for putting his arm around Noctis’ shoulders, steering him towards the steps. “Feeling better?” The King’s voice is icy.

“I’m sorry.” Noctis wants to hang his head, but he smiles slightly instead.

Clarus steps in front of them, blocking the crowd for a moment.

“We’ll talk later.” Regis squeezes Noctis’ shoulder, and Noctis flinches.

It makes his father frown down at him. “Okay,” Noctis says, moving his shoulder slightly.

The King drops his hand. “Please, behave.”

Noctis nods. “Sure.”

His father looks him up and down, and then the crowd is everywhere. It’s loud, too loud.

Noctis presses back and bumps into Ignis, who steadies him with a hand on his arm.

“Come on,” Ignis tugs at his sleeve.

They move along the wall, winding their way through the crowd. Noctis gets caught a dozen times and is forced to make polite small talk. He must look as tired as he feels, because they _all_ ask him if he’s been staying up late over the holidays. Noctis forces smiles, jokes about video games. He feels like a piece of brittle ice, cracking at the edges.

Maybe they notice, because the guests release him from the conversations almost as soon as they start.

“I think Gladiolus is this way,” Ignis says, and his voice is still stiff.

They only make it a few steps before Noctis stops and waits.

“Noct!” Iris barrels into him, hugging around his waist.

Noctis bites down a whimpering noise. “H-Hey, Iris.” He touches her shoulder. “Not so hard, okay?” She’s the perfect height for her arms to reach _just_ the right spot on his scar.

Iris lowers her arms and steps back. “S-Sorry,” she mumbles, toying with the hem of her skirt.

“It’s alright.” Noctis crouches down to look her in the eyes. “Sometimes I forget too.”

Iris makes a disbelieving face at him, and Noctis smiles. “I do _too_ ,” he protests, putting his hands on her shoulders and squeezing softly. “So don’t worry, okay?”

“Okay,” Iris gives him a wobbly smile. She’s missing one of her front teeth, and it makes her look _doubly_ adorable. “But, um…” She fiddles with her skirt again. “Are you _okay_?”

“What?” Noctis tilts his head slightly, lowering his hands.

Iris reaches forward and touches Noctis’ cheek, right under his eye. He can see it coming, doesn’t flinch. “You look really _tired_.”

Noctis swallows. A lie spins itself out, about playing video games late into the night. But he doesn’t want to lie to Iris, not when she’s looking up at him with wide, trusting eyes. “I’ve been having nightmares,” he admits in a quiet voice.

“Really?” Iris frowns, her face scrunching up. “Maybe I should give you Snuggly.”

“Snuggly?” Noctis repeats, shifting slightly. His knee still hurts.

She nods, grinning up at him. “I’ll send it with Gladdy!” She clutches his hands and squeezes them. “Snuggly always made my nightmares go away.”

“Thanks, Iris.” Noctis smiles at her as he squeezes back. “Where is your brother, anyway?” Noctis peers around as he stands up, surprised that Gladiolus isn’t in the immediate vicinity.

Iris pulls her hands from his. “Talking to some pretty lady,” she mutters, crossing her arms over her chest. “He didn’t even notice me leaving!”

“Iris,” Noctis wants to scold but he can’t help smiling, “you’ll make him worry.”

Iris huffs. “If he was going to worry, he wouldn’t be talking to some lady like that!” She stomps her foot and tilts her nose into the air.

“She does have an excellent point,” Ignis points out in a soft voice.

“ _You’re_ not going to ignore me for some girl, right, Noct?” Iris says, clutching her hands together in front of her chest.

Noctis makes a face. “Don’t worry, Iris. You are _definitely_ the only girl here I want to talk to.”

Iris beams at him again and reaches for Noctis’ hands. “You’re not too tired to dance, right?” Her voice is worried.

“I’m never too tired to dance with you,” Noctis reassures her.

Iris beams again and starts tugging on his hands. “Come on, _come on_!”

Noctis smiles as he follows behind her. “Ignis-” He glances behind him.

“I’ll find Gladiolus,” Ignis says. “Don’t stand on her toes.”

Noctis rolls his eyes as Iris leads him through the crowds to the dance floor. He would really rather curl up somewhere and sleep like a cat, but seeing Iris alive and well and being able to squeeze her hand.... It feels better than sleep, anyway.

 

His knee aches the more he dances, but the pain forces him to stay awake. Alert. He dances with Iris until she drags him off the floor, panting and a little sweaty.

Ignis meets them by the buffet table, but Gladiolus is nowhere in sight.

“Busy flirting,” Ignis mutters, adjusting his glasses.

Noctis makes a face as he passes a glass of water - he double checks - to Iris.

She gulps it down and hands it back before Noctis has a chance to get a drink of his own. “I’m _tired_ ,” she complains.

“Me too,” Noctis tells her, setting the empty glass on the tray. “Let’s sneak off and take a nap.”

Iris makes a face at him. “You can’t sneak off,” she tells him, reaching past him for a pastry. “You’re the prince.”

Noctis gives her a faint smile as he reaches for his own water. “Princes should be able to sneak off in their own palaces. Right, Ignis?”

“Hmm.” Ignis gives them both a suspicious look. “You’ll get in more trouble, Noctis.”

Noctis huffs out a sigh. “What about one of the couches?” He nods towards the back wall.

“There’s _couches_?” Iris says, disbelief all over her face.

“It’s worse than the fight for cake,” Noctis tells her.

Iris’ eyes go wide. “No _way_ ,” she breathes.

“And no Gladiolus,” Ignis mutters. “This mission is doomed from the start.”

Iris stomps a foot. “I want a couch,” she says, her voice a little louder than it was before.

“Who are we to deny Lady Amicitia’s request?” Noctis says, reaching for Iris’ hand.

She slips her hand into his and he gives it a gentle squeeze.

“Very well.” Ignis lets out a sigh. “We can always give it a try.”

 

Noctis is pretty sure they use up all their luck for the next year - the corner couch is empty. Iris lets go of Noctis’ hand and _flings_ herself onto it.

“Iris,” Noctis chides. “Leave some room for the rest of us.”

Iris scoffs and wriggles into a sitting position.

Noctis sits down on the middle of the couch. Ignis follows, looking towards the party.

It’s nice to take the pressure off his knee. He hadn’t realized how much it was hurting until he sat down. Noctis is fairly certain he doesn’t want to get up ever again.

Iris flops her head onto his thighs, and it just cements it. He’s never getting off the couch.

“Is it really okay if I go to sleep?” Iris asks, her voice already sleepy.

“Of course it is,” Noctis tells her. He’d stroke her hair, but he’s afraid of upsetting the complicated hairstyle. He settles for patting her shoulder.

Iris grins and then rolls over, curling up onto her side. Noctis leaves his hand where it is, on her upper arm. It’s nice to _know_ she’s safe, right under his fingers.

“Gladiolus will think we’ve kidnapped her,” Ignis mutters, glancing towards her.

“Then he should have kept a better eye on her,” Noctis points out.

Ignis’ lips twitch, but he glances back towards the party and doesn't say anything.

“I’m sorry about before,” Noctis says quietly. He doesn’t want Iris to overhear and get curious.

“It’s alright.” Ignis glances towards him. “You should nap too, Prince.”

Noctis shakes his head. The party is too loud, too bright. His knee hurts, and Iris is getting heavier by the second. “I wouldn’t be able to.”

“You should try.” Ignis glances towards Iris. “I think she’s asleep already.”

Noctis looks down and smiles. “She’s lucky.”

He settles for leaning his head back slightly and closing his eyes. The party is loud enough to drown out his thoughts. The bright lights stop him from being able to see the daemon in the darkness. He lets out a slow, steady breath. Ignis is right there, his arm touching Noctis’. Safe.

 

Noctis wakes up to the sound of a whispered conversation. His neck _aches_ , and there’s something hard under his head.

“-get her home.”

“He hasn’t slept properly for _weeks_ , Gladiolus.”

“He’s going to break his neck.”

“M'not.” Noctis protests, lifting his head. Ignis’ shoulder. That would explain it.

“Look what you did,” Ignis mutters.

“Ow.” Noctis lifts a hand to his neck, rubs at the stiff muscle. The party… The ballroom is dark. Quiet. “I missed it?”

“You missed it,” Ignis confirms. “Your father came by and decided your conversation can wait until tomorrow.”

“Oh. Good,” Noctis says. He looks down. Iris is still using his legs as a pillow. He looks up, meets Gladiolus’ gaze. “Hey, Gladiolus.”

“Hey.” He nods towards Iris. “I better get sleeping beauty home.”

He crouches, scoops Iris into his arms. She barely even stirs. “See you tomorrow,” he nods at Noctis.

“See you. Good night.” Noctis yawns.

“Come on.” Ignis stands, offers Noctis a hand. “You ought to sleep in your own bed.”

“Yeah.” Noctis yawns again. Standing makes his knee _ache_ , and he wonders how bad the bruise will be in the morning.

They follow behind Gladiolus for a moment before he heads towards a different hallway. Noctis yawns again. “Hey, Ignis?” he asks as they slip through the door.

“Yes?”

“Are you going to finish your assignment tonight?” Noctis asks as they make their way down the hallway. He feels like grimacing with every step.

“Probably,” Ignis says slowly. “Why?”

Noctis looks down at his feet. “No reason,” he mumbles.

They walk for a moment in silence.

“You’re welcome to come and keep me company while I work on it,” Ignis says slowly. “If you like.”

“Your couch is pretty comfy,” Noctis says, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

Ignis gives him a faint smile. “Is it? I barely use it.”

Noctis rolls his eyes. “You’re a nerd, Specs.”

 

‘Snuggly’ ends up being a very well-loved stuffed rabbit. Gladiolus delivers it with a letter and a smirk.

_Dear Noctis,_

_This is Snuggly. Please take care of him for me. I hope he helps make your bad dreams go away._

_Love,_

_Iris Amicitia_

He writes Iris a letter while Gladiolus grumbles about playing messenger.

_Dear Iris,_

_Thank you. I’ll treasure Snuggly for as long as you’re willing to let him stay with me. He’s very lucky to have you._

_Love,_

_Noctis_

 

The conversation with his father never happens. Over dinner, his father only asks about his winter break homework, if he enjoyed the party. Noctis answers carefully, and his father nods, stirs his soup. Over dessert, he tells Noctis he can have his game consoles back.

For _months_ , Noctis wonders about what Ignis said to him, but Ignis refuses to even _admit_ that he spoke to the King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't mean for this chapter to be _so_ ignis-heavy, but it's how it worked out. considering i've written three different versions of this and frankensteined two more, i'm considering it DONE.  
>  next year i'll have more gladio to make up for it.  
> (Prom doesn't arrive until year 8. i am impatient for year 8)


	6. the sixth Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do you mean, it’s _april_ already?!

“Wakey-wakey.” A voice calls out, sing-song.

Noctis groans and rolls over. He was dreaming about something - he can’t remember, but it was _nice_ and _warm_ -

He’s suddenly cold, exposed. Noctis buries his face in the pillows, curling around them. “Go’way.”

“Not a chance. If you don’t move, I’ll sit on you.”

Noctis groans again and sits up. “It’s _Christmas_ , Gladio.”

“So?”

“So why are you waking me up at-” Noctis looks at the clock and groans, dramatically loud. “-not even six in the morning?”

“Because you're not allowed to skip training.”

“It’s _one_ day,” Noctis whines, rubbing at his eyes.

“And one day leads to two, and then three.” Gladiolus grins down at him. “Come on.”

Noctis yawns and slides out of bed. The floor is cold against his bare feet. “I _hate_ you.”

“Sure.”

“Really _really_ hate you.”

“It’s not _my_ fault you were up late playing video games.”

Noctis scowls. “Just… give me a minute.”

“Don’t take too long. Every minute you take is another ten laps.”

“ _Ten_?!”

Gladiolus chuckles. “You heard me.”

“I hate you _so_ much.”

Gladiolus laughs louder as Noctis hurries to the bathroom. Mornings _suck._

 

It takes him three minutes to get ready. Thirty laps. Even having Gladiolus doing them with him doesn’t help - not when he’s _four_ laps ahead before Noctis has even run ten. If there was anyone around to impress, Noctis would think Gladiolus is showing off.

By the time he’s done running, Noctis barely has the strength to flop to the ground. He’s _covered_ in sweat, and everything _hurts_ , and the sun isn’t even up yet.

Gladiolus tosses him a water bottle that lands right on his stomach.

Noctis whines, rolling onto his side. “ _Really_?”

“Should’ve caught it.” Gladiolus smirks down at him.

Noctis mutters something under his breath that would make Gladiolus send him around the room again if he heard it.

The door to the training room slides open. Noctis can only see a pair of shoes coming steadily closer. Familiar shoes. His stomach tightens as he sits up.

“You’re _late_ ,” Gladiolus says.

“Yes, well.” Ignis clears his throat.

Noctis gets unsteadily to his feet. His legs feel like they’ve been pulverised, but as long as he can walk - he needs to be able to walk. At least out of the room. “Well, if the torture’s over, I’m going back to bed.”

“Not so fast.” Gladiolus grabs him by the back of his shirt. “You’re gonna warm up while Iggy does laps.”

Noctis’ fingers tighten around the water bottle hanging by his side. “Why?”

“Cause I said so. Off you go, Iggy.” Gladiolus lets Noctis’ shirt go and waves a hand.

Ignis lets out a small sigh before moving to the start of the track. He stretches for a moment as Noctis edges closer towards the door.

“I don’t want to,” he mutters, glancing towards Gladiolus, who hasn’t even broken a sweat.

“Too bad.” Gladiolus narrows his eyes as he looks Noctis up and down. “The two of you need to get used to fighting together. And with me, I suppose.”

“And we have to get used to it starting _today_?”

“No time like the present.” Gladiolus grins down at him.

Noctis scowls harder. He wants to go back to his nice warm, comfortable bed. And go back to _sleep_. The entire point of winter break is to be _lazy_ , but Gladiolus won’t _let him_.

He glances towards Ignis, running smoothly down the track. “Tomorrow,” he says, glancing back towards Gladiolus. “I’ll train with him tomorrow.”

Gladiolus raises an eyebrow at him. “You’re not the one that gives orders in here.”

Noctis’ hand squeezes the water bottle hard enough to make the plastic crinkle. “Fine,” he snaps. Fine is the _last_ thing it is, but no matter what he does, he still can’t beat Gladiolus in a fight.

He can feel the weight of Gladiolus’ gaze, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t even want to _think_ about it. Stupid Christmas. Stupid Ignis. Stupid _everything_.

He makes a half-hearted attempt at warming up. Keeps an eye on Ignis as he runs laps. How is it that he always makes everything look so _easy_?

“Keep frowning like that and your face will get stuck,” Gladiolus points out.

Noctis shrugs.

Gladiolus sighs and heads for the weapon rack. Stares at it for a while, his arms crossed.

Noctis considers the door. He could make a break for it. Dart down the hallway and run to one of his hiding places.

Except _stupid_ Ignis knows where most of them are. Which means he’d be found, and he'd get in trouble with Gladiolus. _And_ they'd probably tell his dad, which would make trying to escape a hundred times worse than training. Noctis sits on the floor and pulls his knees to his chest. He wants to be _asleep_.

Gladiolus picks lances. Of _course_ he picks lances. They’re Ignis’ favourite weapon. Noctis gets to his feet and wonders if he looks as angry as he feels.

“Here.” Gladiolus hands him a lance. He’s got his shield, which means he’s going to be the target Noctis and Ignis will have to attack. Together.

Noctis stands up to take the lance. Rests the butt against the floor and leans against it. It gets him a dirty look from Gladiolus, because of _course_ it does. Noctis can’t do anything right.

“ _You’re_ the one that woke me up,” Noctis mutters. “It’s not _my_ fault I’m tired.”

Gladiolus ignores him. “Come on, Iggy! Hurry it up.”

Noctis should have left when he had the chance. Ignis probably doesn’t even _remember_ most of the hiding places. Not when he’s been so busy with university work _all the time_. Every time Noctis knocked on the door separating their rooms, Ignis was _busy_. Too busy to play video games. Too busy for anything that isn’t the mountain of books on his desk.

Well, not every time. But Ignis would only give Noctis an _hour_ of his time, maybe two. Like Ignis’ time is something more precious than Noctis is.

He’d forgotten what it was like to have empty hours stretching in front of him. No one to spend them with. And now…

“Wake up.” Gladiolus taps the top of his head with a closed fist.

“I wasn’t _asleep_ ,” Noctis snaps.

“Watch it,” Gladiolus snaps back.

Noctis huffs and looks away. If Gladiolus hates mornings too, _why did he wake Noctis up_?

 

He has to stand beside Ignis. Gladiolus stands on the other side of the room, his shield in one hand and a sword in the other. Not his usual _giant_ sword - a smaller one sometimes uses. It's better at deflecting blows.

“Right.” Ignis adjusts his glasses. Readies his lance. “Shall we?”

“Whatever.” Noctis drags the tip of his lance against the floor.

He can feel Ignis’ sharp glance. Feel Gladiolus glaring at him from across the room.

“Come on!” Gladiolus calls out. “Don’t just stand there.”

Noctis rolls his eyes. He almost wants to sit down. It’s not standing, so Gladiolus can’t get mad. Except he would.

“Fine,” Noctis sighs.

He walks towards Gladiolus with dragging feet. Taps the end of his lance against the shield.

Gladiolus is glaring at him so hard that Noctis wonders if it hurts. “The hell was that?”

“I’m tired.” Noctis says. “I don’t have the _energy_ for this.” He drops his lance beside him. Moves towards the door.

Gladiolus yanks his shirt so hard Noctis can hear it ripping. “You’re done when I _say_ you’re done,” he growls. “Stop flopping around the training room like a dying fish and _make an effort_.”

Noctis struggles to free himself. Fails. The only option is slithering out of his shirt, but he’s not going to do that. “Don’t wanna,” he mutters.

Gladiolus’ shoves him away. “I give up.” He stalks towards Ignis. “ _You_ deal with it.”

Ignis sighs so loudly it seems to echo around the room.

Noctis adjusts his shirt, trying to see how badly Gladiolus ripped it and failing.

“Noct.” Ignis’ voice is quiet. He picks up the discarded lance.

“What?” Noctis refuses to look at him.

“All Gladio wants is an hour of your time. Then you can go back to bed and sleep until noon.” Ignis’ voice is brisk, no-nonsense. His _Ignis_ voice. The Ignis that isn’t Noctis’ friend, but his _stupid advisor_.

Noctis shrugs. Shoves his hands in his pockets. “Whatever.”

“Noctis.” Ignis snaps.

Noctis flinches. He isn’t sure if Ignis has ever said his voice like that before. “What?” Noctis flicks his gaze up. Glares.

“Either you acquiesce to Gladio’s training, or I’ll tell your father you’ve been throwing temper tantrums.” Ignis crosses his arms over his chest and glares right back.

“I don’t care.” Noctis looks away. “Winter break is almost over anyway.”

Ignis makes a huffing noise through his nose. “I’ll suggest he pull you out of school. You can go back to tutors.”

Noctis’ hands fly out of his pockets and ball into fists at his side. “You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Ignis is looking at him like he’s _never_ been Noctis’ friend. “Don’t _push_ me, Noctis.”

Noctis _wants_ to push him. Knock him over right on his stupid, _jerk_ behind. His fists clench even harder, hard enough to _hurt_. “Fine.” He snaps. “But I’m not training _with_ you.”

“Fine.” Ignis snaps right back.

 

Daggers. _Still_ Ignis’ favourite weapons. Noctis turns the blade over in his hands. They’re blunted, capable of bruises and not much else. Unless he’s _really_ bad at dodging, and then he might sprain a wrist. He considers it for a second, but they’d just give him a potion and make him keep training. Not worth it.

Gladiolus is standing between them, arms crossed. He looks like he wants to punch something. Someone. Probably Noctis. “Don’t kill each other,” he mutters, glancing between them.

Noctis doesn’t say anything. Gladiolus runs his hands through his hair and steps out of the way. “Fine.”

Ignis doesn’t even give him any warning. He lunges towards Noctis with a dagger in each hand, striking for Noctis’ throat.

He gets his daggers up just in time to block the blow. Ignis backs off and tries again. Noctis blocks that too. For a few minutes it’s almost like it _used_ to be. Block, parry. Dodge. Spin. Noctis ducks out of the way, tries to find an opening to attack. But Ignis isn’t giving him one. He’s _relentless_ , and Noctis can’t remember him ever fighting like this before.

There’s sweat sticking his hair to his face. In danger of getting into his eyes. His arms are _aching_ , and Ignis still hasn’t let up. The sound of clashing metal echoes around the room. This is stupid. Noctis scowls as Ignis forces him a step back. Another.

He’s _losing_ , and it isn’t _fair_. He takes another step back and brings his daggers up, eyeing Ignis from between them.

Noctis isn’t supposed to warp without his father around. He _really_ isn’t. But Ignis is about to drive him against the wall, and why should Ignis get to _always win_?

Noctis throws his dagger towards the doorway. He’d spent months bonding with every single one of them, attuning them to his own magic. He _warps_ towards it.

Stumbles when he turns around. Ignis is spinning on his feet, and Gladiolus is standing up, shouting something-

Noctis throws his dagger again. _Warps_.

For a second he feels like he’s frozen. His fingers are curled around the dagger in his hand, making a fist. It’s right in front of Ignis’ face. He’s suspended in mid-air, the other dagger half a foot from the side of Ignis’ head.

If he doesn’t move his hand, he’ll punch Ignis in the face.

 _If_.

His fist slams into Ignis' nose. Noctis can feel the cartilage snap and crack from the force.

He drops to the ground, knocking Ignis down beneath him.

“Shit, Iggy-” Gladiolus is rushing over.

Noctis scrambles off Ignis. His nose is _leaking_ blood everywhere, like a faucet Noctis can’t turn off.

“What the _fuck_ , Noct-” Gladiolus’ face is as red as Ignis’ blood.

“I didn’t mean to,” Noctis lies. The daggers are on the floor. He dropped them without realising.

“I’m fine.” Ignis sits up and brushes Gladiolus’ hands away. “Just leave me alone.”

He climbs to his feet, shaking off Gladiolus’ helping hand. He storms out of the training room, leaving a trail of blood on the floor.

“What the _fuck_ , Noct.” Gladiolus whirls and grabs him by the collar, almost lifting him off the floor.

“It was an accident,” Noctis protests, the lie coming easier the second time around. He can almost believe it. Just an accident.

Gladiolus makes a noise of disgust and lets Noctis go. He stumbles, almost trips over one of the daggers.

“The hell it was.” Gladiolus growls. He glares down at Noctis. “You’ve been pissy at him for _weeks_.”

Noctis looks away. “Have not.”

Gladiolus’ hands twitch like he wants to grab Noctis again. “I’m going to go check on him. And then I’m going to tell your _father_ about this. In _detail_.”

“Fine.” Noctis spits out, glaring up at him. “I don’t care.”

Gladiolus gives Noctis another angry look before stalking to the door. He stops before leaving the room. “You were a better prince when you lied _for_ your friends instead of _to_ them.”

He slams the door behind him.

Noctis kicks the dagger by his foot. It skids across the room and stops, its blade pointed back to him.

 

A guard escorts him from the training room and back to his bedroom. Stops him with an arm across the doorway when he tries to leave.

Grounded.

Noctis takes a shower, burning hot. There was blood on his fingers, dried and sticky and _gross_. He still feels gross after washing it away. Like it’s still there, trapped under his skin. He scrubs at his hand with his fingernails until it hurts, but the feeling doesn’t go away.

 

He flops face-first onto his bed afterwards. Luna sent the book back weeks ago, and he still hasn’t replied. The corner digs into his face until he shoves it further back under the pillows. He doesn’t _want_ to reply to her. She’s always busy too. The Empire lets her out to heal the sick now that she’s the Oracle, and sometimes he doesn’t hear back from her for weeks.

Everyone’s too _busy_ for him.

Noctis flings the book away with a sweep of his arm. He hears it hitting the ground. Throws a pillow after it for good measure. Then another, until there aren’t any left.

He curls around the blanket and squeezes his eyes shut. His bed is cold, and all his pillows are on the _floor_ , and everything _sucks_.

 

The guard that wakes him up gives him two options. Walking to lunch with his father, or being carried.

Noctis walks. Slowly. His feet drag along the carpet. He should have gone to see Ignis and done _something_. Apologised. Except he doesn’t want to. It’s not _his_ fault everyone’s horrible.

 

The dining table looks longer than usual. Noctis swallows and takes his seat.

King Regis watches him from the other end. He doesn’t say anything as Noctis wriggles to get comfortable. Doesn’t say anything when the waiter brings the dome-covered plates.

He nods, and the waiter sets it down. Another waiter sets down Noctis’.

Chicken and salad. Noctis stares down at it. He’s not hungry.

He glances up and his father is looking at him. He might be frowning behind the beard, but it’s hard to tell.

He’s always frowning at Noctis, lately.

“I heard you had an accident in training today,” Regis says in a flat voice.

Noctis shrugs. Picks up his fork and moves his food around his plate.

“After lunch, you’ll go and apologise to Ignis.” His father’s voice is icy.

“Fine.” Noctis mutters. Ignis doesn’t even _deserve_ an apology. He’s the one that started it.

“And you’re still expected to come to the party tonight.” Regis says. He cuts a piece of chicken and sets his cutlery down again. “At least you got your act of rebellion out of the way early this year.”

Noctis drops his fork and crosses his arms over his chest. “Can I go?”

“After you’re done eating.” Regis takes a bite of chicken.

“I’m done eating.” Noctis looks up and scowls.

Regis looks at him. _Really_ looks at him.

Noctis glances away. He doesn’t want to meet the King’s gaze.

“Fine.” Regis sighs. “I’ll see you at the party. Someone will drop off your suit.”

Noctis doesn’t care about his stupid suit. He slides out of his chair and leaves the room.

 

The guard keeps a hand clamped on Noctis’ shoulder as they walk down the hall.

He doesn’t _want_ to apologise. But what he wants doesn’t matter.

The guard stops at Ignis’ door and knocks.

Ignis opens it. Scowls at Noctis. His nose is still a little pink. Puffy. He’s not wearing his glasses.

“What do you want?” Ignis says, crossing his arms over his chest. He hasn’t even moved out of the doorway.

“Dad said I have to apologise.” The words feel like they’re choking him. He forces them out slowly, glaring at one of Ignis’ buttons. It's weird looking at him when he's not wearing his glasses. Like he's not _really_ Ignis.

Ignis waits for a moment before speaking again. “So apologise.”

Noctis rolls his eyes. He shouldn’t even _have_ to. “Sorry.” He mutters, not sorry in the least.

Ignis sighs. “Your sincerity is truly touching,” he says in a flat voice. “I’ll let your father know you dropped by.”

Noctis scoffs and Ignis shuts the door. In his face.

The guard takes him back to his room. Noctis wants to slam the door, but he’s pretty sure Ignis would hear it.

He kicks off his shoes and crosses back to the bed. Ignis ruined _everything_.

 

It had been a couple of weeks ago. Ignis had actually been spending time with Noctis, the two of them playing Oracle Quest - some new game that had come out with the _worst_ daemons ever. But it was fun, playing with Ignis.

And then Ignis' phone had vibrated and he’d paused the game to read it. He'd smiled so much that Noctis wondered if he’d won the lottery or something.

“What is it?” He’d asked, trying to peek at Ignis’ screen.

“My classmates have invited me to their Christmas party this year.” Ignis’ cheeks were tinged pink. “I’d been hoping they might.”

Noctis had dropped the controller. Turned back to the screen. “You’re not actually _going_ , are you?” He’d muttered.

Ignis had been quiet for a moment. “Of course I’m going. It’s wonderful to be invited.”

“Oh.” Noctis had scowled so hard his face hurt. “Fine.”

It hadn’t been fine. Noctis had wanted to spend Christmas _together_ , since everyone was always too busy. But they were too busy for the party. He’d be stuck alone with all those _strangers_.

 

There’s a knock on the door. Noctis rolls out of bed and slumps towards it.

“What?” He mutters, opening it.

“Your suit for tonight.” One of the palace staff hands it over. It’s still in the garment bag.

Noctis takes it and lets the bottom touch the floor. “Thanks.” He closes the door. Drops the bag. He doesn’t _want_ to go to the stupid Christmas party. What’s the _point_?

 

His door _bangs_ open. Noctis jerks up from the couch. He’d thrown on a movie and ended up not paying any attention to it.

Gladiolus crosses the room and glares down at him. “You’re not dressed.”

“I’m not going.” Noctis mutters. He tugs a cushion over his chest. He’s not _hiding_ behind it. But he can throw it at Gladiolus if he has to.

“Don’t be a spoiled brat. You’re going.” Gladiolus looks away. His gaze stops on the crumpled garment bag. “You could’ve hung it up.”

“Don’t care.” Noctis mutters into the cushion. “Not going.”

“If I have to dress you myself, I will.” Gladiolus turns back to him and frowns. “But I’d rather not.”

“Fine.” Noctis sighs and slides off the couch. He stomps over to the bag and picks it up.

Stomps back to the dressing room. Slams the door.

 

He glares down at the crooked buttons. He doesn’t _care_ , but Gladiolus will make him do them again if he goes out looking so… _unkempt_. That’s Ignis’ favourite word for Noctis’ appearance.

He scowls and undoes the buttons. Does them up again more carefully. There. Now Gladiolus can’t _complain_.

Well, not about the buttons, at least.

 

Gladiolus is waiting for him when Noctis emerges back into his bedroom. He takes one look at Noctis and sighs.

“You have to do something about your hair.”

Noctis scowls and stomps into the bathroom. _Fine_ , he’ll fix his _stupid_ hair. He glares at his reflection while he smooths down the wayward bits. They spring right back up again. Ignis always had some kind of _totally magic_ hair-gel, but Noctis doesn’t know where it is. He opens the cupboards and gives up immediately. He’ll just use water, and Gladiolus can complain at him later when it fluffs back up again.

 

“Better.” Gladiolus stands up from the couch. “Come on.”

Noctis sighs. He’d rather do _anything_ else. He’d rather do _homework_. “Fine,” he mutters, following behind Gladiolus.

At least he doesn’t seem mad about Ignis any longer. Not that Noctis _cares_ about stupid Ignis.

 

His dad’s speech is even _longer_ and more boring than usual. There’s no point in scanning the crowd - Iris is having some kind of class sleepover, and Ignis is at his _stupid_ university party. Noctis keeps his gaze pinned to the far wall. He won’t even get a chance to sneak off if Gladiolus keeps sticking to his side like this.

Maybe he should try to find a pretty girl like the kind Gladiolus had been so _busy_ with last year. Then Gladiolus will be the one getting in trouble.

Except then _Noctis_ would have to put up with a girl too, and it probably wouldn’t even be worth it.

He risks a glance towards the guests when his dad is finishing up the speech. Maybe he can just do a lot of dancing. No one would dare tell him if he’s sloppy about it, right? And if he's busy dancing, he won't have to do much talking. Even if he _would_ have to dance with people that aren’t Iris.

 

He can’t even escape Gladiolus on the dance floor. No matter how hard Noctis tries to put other dancers between them, Gladiolus is _there_ , glaring over the head of his dance partner.

Eventually Noctis gives up. Moves towards the buffet tables.

Gladiolus follows him. “Having fun?”

“No.” Noctis scowls. “I thought you hated dancing.”

“I do.” Gladiolus shrugs. “Iris has been making me help her.”

Noctis drags his feet as they get closer.

“Dad said I have to try to be _understanding_ ,” Gladiolus says suddenly. “That it’s hard for you.” He glances down towards Noctis from the corner of his eye.

Noctis shrugs. Looks down at his feet.

Gladiolus is quiet as they keep walking. They’ve changed course - towards the couches tucked in the corner. A couple of them are even _empty_ , which makes Noctis feel suspicious.

“It’s hard for _us_ , too.” Gladiolus says. “You know that, don’t you?”

Noctis shrugs again. “I guess.”

“You guess.” Gladiolus sighs.

They reach the couches and Gladiolus sprawls across one, waves a hand for Noctis to sit next to him.

Noctis sighs and sits on the edge of the seat. He’d rather be dancing.

“Being invited to the university party is a big deal,” Gladiolus says, rubbing at the back of his head. “And a lot of people have been… jerks.”

“To Iggy?” Noctis’ brows furrow. That’s ridiculous.

“Yep.” Gladiolus leans back against the chair and eyes Noctis. “He’s too _young_. Too _weird_. It’s not exactly common knowledge that he’s at the university because of you.”

Noctis fiddles with the cuff of his jacket. “They don’t know why he’s there?”

“Nope.” Gladiolus stretches his arms over the back of the couch. “They think he’s a nerd that got in young because he had great grades.”

“But he does have great grades.” Noctis protests. “Isn’t that enough?”

“Not for some people.” Gladiolus is watching the dancers. “So getting invited to the party means that they’re accepting him for who he is. Not because of who _you_ are.”

Noctis looks down. “Oh.” His cheeks feel warm.

“Anyway.” Gladiolus clears his throat. “Do something like that again, and I’ll break one of _your_ bones.”

“You wouldn’t.” Noctis looks up.

Gladiolus’ expression is frighteningly serious. “I would.”

“Oh.” Noctis looks away. “Okay.” There’s nothing else he _can_ say.

“Come on.” Gladiolus stands up. “I could eat a behemoth.”

“No you couldn’t.” Noctis rolls his eyes and gets to his feet. “They’re huge.”

“Okay, I could eat a behemoth’s leg.” Gladiolus shrugs.

“Those are _still_ huge.” Noctis shakes his head. “There’s no way. You’d barely even manage a _toe_.”

“Is that right?” Gladiolus looks down at him and smiles slightly. “I guess we’ll have to make do with the buffet, huh?”

Noctis looks away and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I guess.”

 

Noctis picks up a plate and wanders between the other people at the table. Most of them nod at him. But at least no one _talks_ to him.

Gladiolus frowns at Noctis’ plate. “Cake? Really?”

“What?” Noctis hunches his shoulders. “It’s not even _for_ me.”

Gladiolus shakes his head. “If you think I’m going to let you sneak out-”

“It’s not sneaking if you come with me.” Noctis points out. “And I’m supposed to feel sorry, right?”

Gladiolus glares at him. Noctis glares back.

“Fine. But only if you promise to apologise _properly_.” Gladiolus crosses his arms over his chest.

Noctis nods. Anything’s better than having his feet trodden on again. The giggling that follows. It makes him feel sick. Even though the idea of apologising to Ignis makes him feel _sicker_.

"And don't expect him to forgive you right away," Gladiolus adds.

Noctis studies his feet. "I know that," he mumbles, even though he hadn't.

 

Gladiolus waits in the hall. “Ten minutes.”

Noctis sighs and enters his room. He _could_ knock on Ignis’ door, but then Gladiolus would be able to watch. And it’s hard enough _without_ that.

He knocks on the door separating their rooms. He _knows_ Ignis is back - the light is spilling out from under the door.

Ignis doesn’t answer.

Noctis knocks again. Tries the handle.

The door is _locked_. Noctis didn’t even know it could lock. He stares at his hand on the doorknob. Maybe he turned the handle the wrong way or something.

No. It’s locked. Noctis knocks again, panic bubbling up in his chest.

“Iggy, Ignis-”

The door opens. Ignis glares at him. “What?”

“I… I got you some cake. From the party.” Noctis shoves it towards him.

For a second it seems like Ignis won’t take the plate. Then he sighs and accepts it. “Thank you. If there’s nothing else-” He moves to close the door.

“No, wait.” Noctis throws his arm out to stop him. Drops it when Ignis doesn’t close the door. There’s something _different_ about him, and Noctis can’t figure it out.

“What is it?” Ignis says.

Noctis swallows. He knows he has to say _something_ , but he doesn’t know what.

Ignis pushes his glasses up his nose, and Noctis realises what the difference is.

“There’s a bump,” he mutters to himself, looking at Ignis’ nose.

Ignis’ hand stops on his glasses. Slowly lowers. “Yes. I asked to keep it.”

“But why?” Noctis frowns.

“As a reminder.” Ignis shrugs. “Good night, Noctis.”

“I’m sorry.” Noctis blurts out, staring down at Ignis’ socked feet.

“I know.” Ignis says quietly.

The door shuts gently in Noctis’ face.

 

Gladiolus takes him back to the party. He doesn’t even _ask_ about Ignis.

The rest of the party isn’t so bad, after that. Even though Noctis can’t stop thinking about how Ignis is mad at him. How Ignis _should_ be mad at him. It hurts to think about, but he can’t _stop_ thinking about it.

At least he manages to avoid his father. Or maybe the King is avoiding _him_ , too.

 

It’s late when Noctis finally gets back to his room. He tosses his jacket to the floor as he crosses the room. Something Gladiolus said sounded familiar.

The book from Luna ended up under his bed. Noctis pulls it out and opens it to the last message she sent, sitting on the cold floor.

_Every king should be capable of forgiveness. It can be hard to forgive someone after they’ve hurt you. And it’s even harder to forgive yourself after you’ve inflicted pain._

_But it won’t be hard forever, Noctis. Wounds can heal, if you let them._

He stares down at the page, stroking his fingers over the ink. Did she _know_ , when she wrote it? Or is it a lucky guess? And if she knows - _really_ knows, how much does she see?

Noctis slams the book closed and throws it further under the bed. He doesn’t want to be _spied_ on.

He climbs into bed, burying himself under the blankets. This is the worst Christmas _ever_ , and no one will let him forget it.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. Noctis ignores it, but it vibrates again. He scowls, pulls it free.

“Make sure you set an alarm for the morning.”

“7AM.”

He tosses the phone away from him. Great. Just _great_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> growing up sucks. mood swings suck. emotions suck.  
> poor Noct. he tries so hard, but it’s so hard.
> 
> this was meant to be my gladio-centric chapter, but i’m terrible at following my own outlines, _oops_ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> [oracle quest](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10521519) was borrowed with permission~


End file.
